


Chain of Command

by dovingbird



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Aftercare, Cockwarming, Crying, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom Link, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, F/M, FaceFucking, First D/s Experience, First Sexual Experience, Link is literally the entire office's dom, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Punishment, Vomiting, wrist binding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: It's not exactly easy for Link to have an office full of subs looking to him for guidance, punishment, and playtime, especially not when they're trying to play each other against him, but goddamn, if it doesn't make every day at work at least a little bit more interesting.(TWs and pairings are listed in each individual chapter!)





	1. Lizzie

**Author's Note:**

> When Lizzie decides to deliberately make a delightful pasta sauce with her feet, full of things that Link hates, Link knows it's time to give his bad girl the punishment she's asking for.
> 
> (TW for punishment of the overstimulation variety)

To say that Lizzie is good is...well, listen, it's not a lie, but it's pretty damn far from the truth. Lizzie, for example, is good at many things. She is good at being creative. She is good at lending a sympathetic ear. She is good at giving a smile that lights up the whole room.  
  
She is not, however, a Good Girl, and literally everybody in the office knows about it.  
  
"This is not a good idea," Eddie says as he checks the lens on his camera. "Seriously. Lizzie. I'm telling you, friend to friend, that it is literally the worst idea to do this."  
  
"Lighten up, Eddie!" Lizzie grins. She lays out the ingredients - tomatoes, onion, garlic, the works - and feels satisfaction swell in her chest. "It's just a little prank, God. We do these all the time."  
  
"Do we?" Eddie asks dryly, drawing Lizzie's gaze. She makes a face at him and he shakes his head in response with a soft chuckle.  
  
The arrangement stands pretty clearly in the office, accepted and understood but never forced on anyone. It started out years ago, from what Eddie understands, when it was just Rhett and Link trying to make ends meet with shitty jobs they hated. Engineering? That was the last thing they were passionate about. It was just a fucked up way to drain their creativity, to chain them to a machine that neither ever dreamed of working for. It hit them in two different ways. Rhett, for example, started acting out, losing that restless energy in the only way he knew how.  
  
Link, however, lost all sense of control thanks to Rhett's little tantrums, and that was something he wasn't going to stand for.  
  
From what Eddie knows, it began with a bang. He doesn't know specifics, but everyone knows that it was rough, forceful, masochistic, and sharp around the edges. Research was done. Safe words were created. Agreements were made. Boundaries were understood.  
  
Then the office happened. Then the first of the employees happened. And, from what Eddie's heard, it was Stevie who first reached out in curiosity, not attracted to Link in the least but craving his dominance. And then Chase. And then down the line, person by person approaching the other subs - that's what they are, of course, submissives - with questions, and then eventually transitioning to tentatively asking if they could talk to Link alone in his office.  
  
Messy? Yeah, a little. There's some sharp, fine lines: Link is their dom, not their partner, and Link can punish them at work, but only in front of other consenting subs and never in front of an employee who isn't a part of that dynamic, and Link can allow sexual contact in the workplace, but only under very specific situations and guidelines in order to keep productivity flowing properly.  
  
Well. Nobody ever said this was the most normal place to work.  
  
So this is what happens, especially in a dynamic with so many overlapping subs. Their differences all start coming out. Eddie, for example, likes being good. He thrives on compliments, on attention, on physical contact. He's desperate to serve. He'll finish his projects at double the rate just to have a chance to cook a meal for everyone and feel flushed as they thank him for it.  
  
Lizzie? Not so good.  
  
"Y'know, I almost think you want this," Eddie says with a grin.  
  
Lizzie glances up as she toes off her shoes, lifting an eyebrow. "Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Like, the, like..." He gestures as he stammers, taking in everything in front of him. "...you know exactly what's gonna happen once Link tastes this."  
  
She grins, incorrigible as anything. "And? Would that be such a bad thing?"  
  
There's so many reasons why that's a bad thing, but then again, while Eddie and Lizzie both claim to be masochists, Eddie doesn't like to beg for punishments, unlike Lizzie, apparently. "Like, it's not even just the, y'know, the feet thing, like, that I think he could forgive, but the..." He stares at the tomatoes and olive for a long moment before he changes his mind, shakes his head, and laughs as he aims the camera at her. "Okay, no, I need one thing from you. One thing. And then I'll film this."  
  
"Yeah?" Lizzie asks, eyes sparkling behind her glasses.  
  
"Want you to look into the camera and say that I tried to get you not to do this, but you did it anyway."  
  
Lizzie laughs. "I can't believe you. You don't even give a shit. You're just trying to get out of-"  
  
"Of being punished, yes," Eddie says. He can still vividly remember the hard wood of Link's desk under his hands when he had to bend over it last time, can remember how Link hadn't pulled back any of his strength with the spanks. "Say it, Elizabeth."  
  
Lizzie rolls her eyes, then plants her hands on her hips as she focuses on the camera. "Hey, Link?" she asks. She gives a little wave, just a wiggle of her fingers. "Hey there. Hey! I just wanted you to know that Eddie's a party pooper who hates having fun and tried to keep me from making you this _awesome_ sauce I'm about to work on!" She gestures to the ingredients. "Hope you enjoy!"  
  
"You are so fucked," Eddie murmurs with a breathy laugh.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
The filming is palpably painful for everyone in the room behind the cameras. It's not fear. It's not apprehension, even. It's just the undeniable fact that something very, very interesting is about to happen, and every single one of them would like to demonstrate as clearly as possible that it wasn't their fault.  
  
All of them except for Lizzie.  
  
"Lizzie! Come on down!"  
  
A deathly silence goes over the crew as Lizzie hops up, grabs her chair, and walks it carefully over. She looks more carefree than a girl skipping through a field of flowers. Like she knows exactly what's coming.  
  
Chase chews on his thumbnail and locks eyes with Stevie for a moment. Stevie's the sub who's been involved in the dynamic the longest, after Rhett, of course, and she's a good girl, even, and it's become a force of habit to look at her, to check for a sign of how they should react to best stay on Link's good side.  
  
Stevie simply quirks a brow before she sits back a little further in her chair. Not helpful, then. Chase looks back forward.  
  
Lizzie waits to the side tentatively, and Stevie can't help but wonder if Lizzie's had some second thoughts. She can still take this back. She can speak up and ask them to stop the filming, and even though Link will be miffed about that, it'll no doubt lessen her punishment if she tells him why she did so. She could take a moment off camera to pick the raw olives out of Link's plate, to mush the tomatoes a little more with a knife.  
  
She doesn't. And when Link looks over with a little wrinkle of his brow, says "C'mon in," Lizzie wades into the fray. "Don't be shy, until you're questioned about what you're making us eat."  
  
Eddie takes a sharp breath in behind the camera.  
  
The air is heavy on them all, but while a few of them are practically looking for an escape, there's one or two that are more than delighted by the proceedings. Alex leans over and elbows Mike, but Mike knows better. He avoids Alex's eyes. He stares straight at Link and waits for any cue that he can take to keep himself as clearly blameless as possible.  
  
"So Lizzie," Link says as he and Rhett study their plates. "What have you made for us?" He pauses. "And how much do you wanna tell us before we eat it?"  
  
Eddie looks over as Lizzie begins speaking, and he locks eyes with Chase. Chase is good. Chase is so good. He's the sweetest gay baby alive, bless him, and Eddie still has this weird thought that maybe if he appeals to enough subs, they can do something. They can help Lizzie before she gets into more than she can chew.  
  
Chase shakes his head, then avoids Eddie's eyes too. Okay. No solidarity, then. Eddie looks back at the view in the camera and takes as silent and deep of a breath as he can.  
  
"Can't I just eat the pasta?" Link asks.  
  
"No, you've gotta get the tomatoes!" Lizzie replies. There's an off-camera gasp that's so quiet it might not even pick up on the mics, one that belongs to Stevie, and she covers her mouth with her hand, eyes widening a little at the sheer audacity of Lizzie telling Link what to do. Already a bad idea. Even worse when Link is clearly taken aback. "I-I ate some of it," Lizzie adds, a little more tentative correction, "and I didn't hate it."  
  
As the exchange goes on Mike reaches over silently and touches Alex's leg, squeezing his thigh for solidarity, but Alex scoffs and pushes Mike's hand away. This is comedy gold, after all, nothing to be nervous about, not if they're all good. Not that Alex often is, but...  
  
The moment when things touch down, though, when everyone realizes that this is kicking off, this is happening right here, right now, is when giggling Lizzie admits she made the sauce with her feet. And when Link laughs so delightedly in response.  
  
And then Link's tone goes just a little lower and a little smoother, and a chill goes up the back of everyone's neck, trepidation and excitement all wrapped up into one little sensation.  
  
"This is Lizzie's idea of a prank," Link says eventually, and it's probably a good thing that they're allowed to laugh in the background, that the fans apparently like hearing them react, because Alex can laugh. Alex isn't a good boy. He knows that. He's an asshole sometimes. He's got a sadistic streak in him. He likes seeing how far he can push people before they get back at him.  
  
And damn, it's nice to see somebody else get punished for once.  
  
Link is unflappable, as usual. Only Rhett has a strong track record of getting Link to fuck up on camera, to trip over his words, to immediately look for a way to punish Link. And maybe that's why Lizzie finally starts getting more and more twitchy as Link's silences go on.  
  
It's a particularly long silence, broken only by Rhett, that Lizzie interrupts with "It's not that ba-" She hesitates, regrets her choice of word, and tries again. "You can't taste the feet."  
  
Link locks eyes with her. Eddie holds his breath. Even from this angle, he can see the almost dangerous promise in his eyes sent straight to Lizzie.  
  
Now, listen, it's not like Link and Rhett often keep up with every tiny goings-on that happens in the crew. The crew have jobs that are dished out by Stevie. They have things they need that only Link can give or oversee, yes, punishments or tasks or requested attention, but typically they're left to their own devices. But sometimes...sometimes they both know more than they usually do.  
  
"I'm glad I ate it just to give you the joy of watching us," Link says so smoothly with a smile. Lizzie grins at him and nods enthusiastically. "Like, that, that was good for you," he says through his laughs. And then he turns his head and looks straight at Eddie with the most serious expression alive.  
  
And Eddie goes dead still.  
  
That's all there is, really, until the cameras turn off again, just that dead silence on the rest of the set, the awareness that they might have no idea what happens after this. Link's punishments are on his terms, of course, and it's Lizzie's decision to speak about them if she chooses, not a requirement. So they wait. They all wait. Eddie in particular sweats profusely.  
  
And then Link calls for a cut. They cut the cameras, the mics, all of it. And they wait.  
  
Link pushes the plate away, the bottom of it scraping across the desk, and sits back in his chair. "How'd you like it, Rhett?" he asks.  
  
"The sauce?" Rhett prompts.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Rhett shrugs. "I mean, I thought it was pretty good."  
  
"Yeah?" Link prompts.  
  
Everybody stares at Rhett. They wait. Rhett doesn't look away from Link's eyes for a second. "...probably a couple of things that didn't need to be in it."  
  
"Huh." Link chews on his bottom lip for a moment, eyes dancing around the room, before he sighs and lets his gaze fall on Eddie. "Eddie," he says with a smooth smile, eyes sparkling. "C'mere."  
  
Eddie almost knocks the camera over on his way over. He swears and catches it, steadies the stand, his hands shaking. "Sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Link says, voice bright. "C'mere."  
  
It's easier after that, making his way around the equipment. Eddie comes to a stop next to Link and waits. And man, does Link make him wait. Link reaches out and takes Eddie's hand between his fingers, turning it this way and that, studying it, and Eddie tries to pretend his heart isn't pounding in a rush of nerves and adrenaline all wrapped up together.  
  
Link begins rubbing Eddie's hand between his own, calming the shaking significantly, and looks up at him. "You were filming Lizzie this week, weren't you?"  
  
Eddie opens his mouth, shuts it, then settles for nodding with a simple "Yes sir."  
  
"You saw what she was making?" he asks.  
  
"Yes sir," Eddie says. His bottom lip trembles for a moment with the force of the things he isn't saying. He can hear Chase's breath speeding up a little around the other side of the desk, like Chase wants to speak on his behalf, and Eddie tries to telepathically tell him not to even try it.  
  
"What'd you think of it?" Link asks. He's still wearing the soft smile, eyebrows lifted in attentiveness.  
  
That's all the prompting he needs for the words to come spilling out. "I told her not to do it," he says, "like, the tomatoes and olives thing, and, and her feet, that, I told her it'd be a bad idea, that you wouldn't like it."  
  
"Did you?" Link asks cheerfully.  
  
"I-I've even got it on film," Eddie says, face flaming under his beard. "If. If you'd like to see it."  
  
"Nah," Link says. He leans forward and brushes a kiss over Eddie's knuckles, sending pleasant tingles up Eddie's arm like a shot. "No, I trust you, Eddie. You've been a good boy for me, haven't you?"  
  
A roll of pleasure breaks over Eddie's body like a wave at the ocean, dousing him immediately, and something goes fuzzy in his mind. "I wanna be real good for you, sir."  
  
"And you are." Link grins. "You've done real good." He looks over. "Chase, c'mere."  
  
Chase skitters over immediately, feet fleet.  
  
"What've you got left on your schedule for the day?"  
  
"I, uh, nothing, sir," Chase says. He shifts his weight, nervous about the attention on him. "I finished everything already."  
  
"Did you?" Link asks again. "Think you need some more work?"  
  
Chase's eyes widen for a moment. He works through the proper response in his head. "I would like to do whatever I can for you, sir."  
  
"Good." Link comes up out of his chair and leans to tuck Eddie's hand into Chase's. "Do something nice for him," he says. "Blow him, rim him, or fuck him, whatever he likes best."  
  
"Yes sir," Chase says with a smile. He's pretty sure that he shouldn't look overwhelmingly excited about the order, as pleased as he is by it - Eddie's sweet to get off, all flushed skin and shaky breaths and whispered gratitude - because it's still an order for Chase instead of a reward for him, something that Chase should still take seriously rather than getting lazy.  
  
Chase goes to guide Eddie out of the room, gets halfway to the door when Link says "Chase?"  
  
Fuck, what did he do wrong? Chase turns on his heel. "Yes sir?"  
  
Link stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, tracing a finger over his soft, plush bottom lip. "...you can get off too. Just don't make a mess."  
  
Well, he'll do that another time, then, the mess thing. Chase nods. "Absolutely. Thank you, sir."  
  
Once Chase and Eddie have disappeared there's that silence again, waiting. Even Rhett and Stevie, who can typically get away with murder, are quiet, watching each other specifically, a sort of steady solidarity. No one else is quite so calm. Mike is refusing to look at Link. Alex is bouncing his leg, keys jingling. They don't have the comfort that Rhett and Stevie do - they're still bosses of everybody else, after all, have the safety of having all of their punishments happen in private and silence to maintain the chain of command and authority in the office.  
  
The rest of them aren't that lucky.  
  
Especially poor Lizzie, the soft hairs on her legs where she hasn't shaved for a couple of days standing straight up, her heart pounding fast enough in her chest that she's tempted to ask for an ambulance to be called, her breath catching in her throat in a strange combination of fear and anticipation.  
  
Yeah, she asked for this. Whatever the hell happens, she chose it.  
  
"Everybody get back to work," Link eventually says. "Mike," he says in particular, shoving the two plates forward so hard that they almost topple off the desk. "Get this cleaned up, man."  
  
"Yes sir," Mike says as he flies to attention and everybody else begins to leave.  
  
Lizzie starts to stand and Link catches her wrist just as quickly. "Did I tell you to go anywhere?" Link asks softly.  
  
Lizzie knows she shouldn't speak beyond an apology. She knows that. And instead she swallows and opens her mouth again. "You said we should get back to work."  
  
"D'ya think I meant that for you?" he prompts.  
  
Holy shit, she's dead. She's so dead. "You didn't tell me _not_ to leave," she says.  
  
Link stares. And then he slowly smiles. "Oh Lizzie."  
  
When Link tucks his hand around the back of her neck and starts guiding her out of the room, Lizzie lets out a soft sound that doesn't even make Link flinch. He doesn't tighten his hold. Doesn't shift it. Doesn't run a soothing finger over her skin. No, he just brings her along, and she lets him lead her even though she knows exactly where they're going: the office.  
  
The office is not a fun place. Rewards can be administered anywhere in the building where the subs exclusively are. But the office? That's where you go when you're bad. Just thinking about it makes Lizzie throb in her pants, clit already aching, and Link shoves the office door open and guides her inside like she's just a toy, like she belongs to him.  
  
Fuck, she does, of course she does, _fuck._  
  
Link shuts the door behind him and leads her to his desk. "You know why I'm upset, Lizzie?" he prompts, voice taking on that slight breathy tone that tells her she's probably going to get fucked in more ways than one.  
  
"I think I do," she says haltingly, "but I don't think it's really fair."  
  
"Oh, you don't?" Link grins. He sits her down in his office chair firmly, and she squirms, her labia pounding with every beat of her heart, swollen and so desperately needing to be touched. "All right, then, tell me why."  
  
She can't see Link from this angle, and she's pushing things far enough, she knows, so she doesn't turn even when she hears Link start digging through the drawer that she knows is so meticulously divided with very special lining into various punishment materials.  
  
"Don't keep me waiting, Lizzie."  
  
Lizzie inhales sharply, making a little whine she doesn't mean to, and begins what she hopes is an impassioned speech. "I just think, with all due respect, sir, that...that Rhett's gotten you to drink and eat a whole lot of things worse than that. I-I mean, you even, his pee, you drank his pee, and you ate that, the, the fruit pulp from the juicing episode? Remember that? Even though you didn't have to? All because he made you? And I don't even remember what happened, but-"  
  
"You think his punishments are your concern?" Link asks calmly.  
  
"No!" Lizzie says, then realizes she's on the edge of sounding hysterical. She forces herself to dial it back. "N-no, I just, if Rhett could...if he was..."  
  
"I don't have to punish you the same way I punish Rhett," Link says. He kicks the drawer closed somewhere behind her. "Is that what you'd like?" he asks. "You wanna pick Rhett's punishment next time and then let me let him pick yours? You think he's gonna go easy on you?"  
  
"No, no _sir,_ I just. I don't think this is fair. I washed my feet super good before I did it. It tasted good. I don't understand why I'm being punished."  
  
There's a tickle on her neck as Link comes up behind her, gathers her hair, and smooths it away from her skin. He leaves a soft kiss on the back of her neck, warm, making her gasp. And then he murmurs against her skin. "Tomatoes and olives," he says. "There were tomatoes and olives, baby girl."  
  
The sweetness of the pet name almost stabs her through the heart. She's been bad. She knows she has. She deliberately set out to be bad. And the fact that he uses that term, that he makes it clear he hasn't given up on her, on _this,_ makes her tremble.  
  
"Tell me something," Link murmurs as he knots his fingers in her hair and pulls back just enough so that she has to look him in the eye, so that even trying to pull away will send a shock of pain through her. "Why'd you make it with something you know I hated?"  
  
Lizzie wrinkles her brow, feeling her eyes burn, and no, this is what she wanted to avoid, she just, she wanted Link to punish her, to make her feel bad, make her feel _alive,_ and then send her on her way. Not to look at her. Not to sound so sweet even with his hand in his hair. She can't even be pissed about that part, because she knows it's just Link trying to speed the process, trying to keep her from looking away to hem and haw. But she doesn't wanna cry yet. This isn't fair. "I-I..."  
  
Link lifts his brows, smile falling away to a thoughtful expression, eyes so wide and warm. "You need a minute, baby girl? What's your color?"  
  
Lizzie sucks in a shaky breath and tries to shake her head, then whines at the pain in her scalp. "Gr-green," she stammers.  
  
"Okay," he says. "Just go on and tell me. Why'd you do something you know I wouldn't like?"  
  
She digs her teeth into her bottom lip to try and keep it from shaking, can almost taste blood on her tongue from how viciously she tries, but it's no use. "I missed seeing you," she says on a breathy whisper.  
  
Link nods slowly. "You missed seeing me?"  
  
"You've been so busy," she says. "And that's, I know why, you've, you and Rhett have been filming, then promoting your show, a-and I'm not, I'm not mad, but, but everybody else gets to see you more, and sometimes it feels like..." She feels the first tears start to trail down her cheeks and swears softly under her breath, trying to blink them away, before she goes on. "Everybody else is so good, and you always praise them, but I-I feel like I don't...I don't get to see you unless I'm bad."  
  
The crying comes in earnest, then, soft and confused tears that Link thumbs away before he croons a soft "Hey, hey" and pulls her into his chest. "Hey, it's all right, Lizzie, you let it go, all right?" It's not even that she has to cry a lot, and she's not sobbing, but even she has to admit that it feels good to pull her glasses off and bury her face in Link's shirt and breathe him in as she lets the tension ease.  
  
It's mostly adrenaline that's making her cry, she realizes after a bit, that paired with the tension of not knowing what her punishment is going to be, of knowing for days that something was coming, that she literally asked for it the second she came up with this idea in the first place. So the tears clear up quickly. She catches her breath, makes it less wet, makes herself sound a little stronger.  
  
"You ready, baby girl?" Link asks, petting through her hair with his long fingers.  
  
That's right. Crying doesn't take away the fact that she still needs to be punished. She nods and sits back up slowly, rubbing the trails of mascara off of her cheeks, sniffling the snot away. "Yes sir," she murmurs.  
  
"All right." Link holds her gaze, sincere and warm. "You're right. I haven't been paying you enough attention."  
  
Her chest aches. She swallows hard and feels her eyes burn again.  
  
"There's no excuse either, Lizzie. Don't matter how busy I've been. I gotta make time for you. That's what I signed up for. I made a promise to do right by you as long as you want this. And I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," she chokes out.  
  
"No it's not," he says softly. "But I'm gonna be better, all right? I'll prove it to you. I'm not gonna have any of y'all feel neglected."  
  
She nods. She believes him. How could she not when he's taken such good care of her for all this time?  
  
Link smiles, pulling her hand up for a kiss right on top of the drying tears and the leftover mascara, like she isn't a total mess, but God if it doesn't make something inside of her swell. "All right," he murmurs. He holds up the Hitachi in his other hand. "See this?"  
  
"Yes sir," she says. Thank God her voice finally sounds a little clearer.  
  
"Gonna start giving you that attention right now, all right? Gonna let you get off."  
  
That sounds pretty straight forward. She knows better. "Yes sir."  
  
"I know your safeword. You can use your colors too. And if you don't wanna talk, you can tap the arm of the chair three times and I'll pull off until you're ready again."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
He grins at her and shifts down to plug it in. "All right. Then let's get you started, you bad girl."  
  
Lizzie's well accustomed to a Hitachi at this point. Link's not much for subtlety. He likes to hit things fast and hard, whether with his toys, his hand, or his cock. Lizzie remembers first coming into this, having such a sensitive and tender vagina, from vulva to her g-spot, but just a few months under Link's guidance has made her feel so much less sensitive in the best way. She can take so much more. She can handle whatever he wants her to. She doesn't have to disappoint him.  
  
He doesn't let her get her clothes off either. Doesn't tell her to, and she's done fighting, is ready to take what she earned and to let every bad thing she did today burn off like inside a crucible. So he presses the head against her pussy through her jeans and she immediately lights up like a fire, spreading her legs and digging her fingers into the chair arms with a sharp cry.  
  
Lizzie shakes in the chair, tipping her head back with a whine as Link rocks it against her. "Stop squirming, Lizzie," he murmurs with just enough of an edge to it that she makes herself freeze with a little squeak.  
  
"Sorry," she says, "I-I didn't think I w-was-"  
  
"Just stay still for me now, all right?"  
  
She nods, digging her teeth into her already bruised bottom lip to hold her sounds inside. Her eyes tip shut, focusing on the fucking jackhammer menacing her through her pants, making every centimeter of her labia light aflame.  
  
"Don't want you to hold back, baby girl," Link murmurs. He twists the Hitachi downward, and Lizzie moans sharply as she rocks up a little onto her tiptoes, where he can press the head of it flush against her from top to bottom. "Want you to come as soon as it's there."  
  
"Yes sir," she squeaks. She can feel her hair fall in her face when she rolls her head to the side, eyes shut, lashes still wet with tears. "Oh fuck-"  
  
"Want you to say my name too when you come, all right?"  
  
"Yes sir!" That one's a little harder to get out, cracking at the end of the sentence, and hearing Link's quiet laugh is enough to make her claw at the chair arms.  
  
It doesn't take long. Less sensitive or not, it's a fucking assault on her pussy, every effort localized to make her come, and Lizzie feels her legs shake and almost give out as she lets it shake through her, as she cries out Link's name weakly.  
  
The thing is that Link doesn't pull the Hitachi away.  
  
"Sir?" she asks hesitantly.  
  
"Said I wanted you to say my name," Link drawls. His old accent always seems to creep back a little when he's having a power rush, and it sets off a little firework somewhere inside of her. "Don't think you did a real good job, Lizzie girl. You still being bad, huh?"  
  
"N-no sir, I can-"  
  
"So we're gonna do this again. You're gonna come again and you're gonna say my name like I want you to."  
  
She can't express the level of agony going through her as she sinks down a little more fully onto the Hitachi. "Oh God."  
  
The assault is renewed, not too much for her to take, but just at the edge of it. It feels like her insides are rewiring a little too quickly, like she isn't quite made for this, but, but she _trusts_ Link, knows that he isn't gonna let her down.  
  
"Want you to take off your shirt and your bra, Lizzie," Link murmurs.  
  
Lizzie lets out a shivery sound. "I-I might fall."  
  
"Not gonna let you fall, baby girl, I promise."  
  
She whimpers. She pries her fingers off of the chair arm and nearly topples over, but Link's already there, pressing the Hitachi harder against her, grabbing her shoulder. Fuck, how do clothes work again? She tries to find out how to get her arm out of the sleeve, but there's spun sugar in her blood and desperate rolling waves of pure sensation in her pussy, her thighs, her ass, and she doesn't, she can't, her, she just...  
  
It's almost like wrestling herself, but she gets her shirt off and sags back against the chair for only a second to catch her breath before she opens the front fasten of her bra and lets it drop to the seat. "Oh my God," she whimpers.  
  
"Good girl," Link murmurs, and Lizzie feels the prick of tears at her eyes again. "You getting close?"  
  
"Yeah," she squeaks with a nod.  
  
"You gonna be good for me this time?"  
  
Fuck, she'll never be bad for him again, not ever. She sucks in a tear-filed breath and nods so quickly, so frantically.  
  
The second orgasm almost creeps up on her. There's the constant press of tingling, of a goddamn earthquake going on in her muscles, and then so suddenly there's the swell that has her clawing at the chair arms again. "Fuck, Link!" she cries out, loud enough to echo in the room, and she tries to clamber away from the vibrator, hears Link coo as he chases her with it until she's on her tip toes and has all her weight on her hands, until she can't get any further away, and he holds it there against her as she sobs, feeling everything bleed into an odd combination of numbness and pain.  
  
She was good, she was so fucking good, she yelled his name, okay, like, whoever's in the next room knows for fucking sure what's happened to her, and Link knows that she hates that, hates people knowing when she's getting off, feels so exposed and humiliated that they get to hear her be a little slut like this. And so the vibrator switches off, drops away from her, and she readies herself for the aftercare, for the-  
  
There's fingers on her jeans button. Lizzie doesn't reach to stop them, but she drops into the chair, makes a wounded sound, looks up at Link with teary eyes.  
  
"Almost, baby girl," Link murmurs as he gets her pants open, unzipped, and starts tugging them down her legs. "Want one more, though. Wanna hear you yell the damn roof off the building."  
  
"I can't," she says through her tears. Every inch of her skin feels like it's recoiling from the mere idea. "Please-"  
  
"You've been so bad today," Link says. He locks eyes with her, his pupils blown, his mouth swollen from where he's been digging his teeth in. "So fucking bad. You asked for this."  
  
Lizzie buries her face in her hands and feels the tears pressing into her palms. "Oh God, oh God-"  
  
"Tell me your color."  
  
Her heart tries to pound clear out of her chest as Link pulls her panties away. She can feel them drag along her thighs and leave such a long streak of wetness behind, and something inside of her throbs desperately, _needily._ "Green," she sobs.  
  
"That's my good girl," he says with a grin.  
  
Link sinks two fingers inside of her without hesitation just as he gets his mouth on her labia, sucking up the wetness she can feel practically gushing out of her. Lizzie clenches so tightly, feels her abs aching like she's been working out for hours. It's so much. It's so fucking much. She wants to bury her fingers in Link's hair, wants to feel how soft it is, but she can't, she doesn't have permission, and she's good, she's good, she's _good._  
  
Link hums against her folds, a little breathy gasp. Just knowing that he's hard from this, that he's getting so affected, is enough to light a match inside of her and make her roll her hips so gently against his mouth. She waits to be scolded, but nothing comes, nothing but Link's fingers pressing further and further inside of her, curving, feeling.  
  
Oh fuck, he's not gonna do that, is h-  
  
"Fuck!" Lizzie screams at the newly formed assault right against her g-spot, so numb to the vibrations, still tingling from them, but suddenly paired with this new desperation inside of her, her muscles clenching around his fingers, his tongue probing at her so intently, God, she's fucking overcome. His fingers press against her and her hips move her of her own accord, bearing down, trying to take more, more, more. Anything. Everything.  
  
She looks down through her tears, sees Link's eyes so intent and warm on her, sees his pretty mouth working so hard at her, and she forces herself to focus inside of her, to feel his fingers, to feel the way her body is trembling and rolling. She's gonna be good. She's gonna do what he needs her to do.  
  
Lizzie holds his eyes, brow wrinkling, as she pants and mewls and keens and finally comes, screaming Link's name at the top of her lungs.  
  
For a moment, she thinks she might've died. Like, honestly, this is how it ends, just giving up and letting herself accept the inevitable. But then there's Link's arms around her, his soft and cooing _"Good, baby girl, you did so good, there you go,"_ and she wraps around him and cries into his shoulder as every mucle in her body shakes and spasms.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she sobs, digging her fingers into his shirt.  
  
"I know," Link murmurs back. He kisses her hair, her cheek, her ear. "I know. But it's okay. You took your punishment. You did what I wanted you to. You did so good."  
  
Somehow they end up on the floor, Lizzie straddling Link, Link holding her tightly and rubbing up and down her back, but it's perfect. It's just what she needs. She nuzzles into his neck and leaves soft kisses behind that Link hums in contentment at. When she finally has her voice back she shyly reaches between them, feeling Link's hardness. "Can I, sir?" she asks.  
  
"Not today, baby girl," Link murmurs. He turns her face and kisses her, leaving her own musky taste on her lips. "You've got deadlines, don't you?"  
  
Lizzie whines. Work discussion is pretty minimal during aftercare and fully banned during scenes, but it's a nice reminder that she has things she has to get done, that she unfortunately can't stayed curled up with Link for the next few hours.  
  
Link pets through her hair and she leans into it. "Want you to lay down for an hour, all right?" Link asks. "Set an alarm and rest. It's okay if you don't fall asleep."  
  
"Yes sir," Lizzie murmurs, words already slurring a little. "Thank you, sir."  
  
"Good girl," Link says softly back.  
  
He kisses her again and starts sliding her clothes back on her, something that always embarrasses Lizzie but that he seems to enjoy, so she cranes her head to find a distraction. The giant pool of slick left behind on the chair catches her eye. "Oh God," she says, covering her face. "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" Link asks with a little laugh. "Getting off like I wanted you to?"  
  
"Just embarrassing," she says behind her hands.  
  
"It means you did good. Not embarrassing at all."  
  
"Okay," she says softly. The chair's gonna smell like her for weeks, but maybe Link likes that. Maybe he wants it.  
  
Link pulls her into his arms once she's dressed and she sags against him, already feeling her eyelashes flutter. "Lay down for me right here, okay?" he asks, walking her over to the couch in the corner of the office. "I'll be right at my desk. I'm not gonna go anywhere. You can call me if you need me and I'll be right with you."  
  
"Yes sir," she murmurs.  
  
"Alarm set?" he asks.  
  
"Mm-hmm." She nods as she rubs at her eyes and lets Link ease her into laying down before he tucks her in until she's a little blanket burrito. She blinks up at him and smiles sleepily. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, Lizzie," he murmurs back with a smile. It's a nice thing to see right before she drops off to sleep, sore but content.


	2. Mike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's not exactly the most vocal of Link's subs, but he's learned more than enough times by now that when he wants something, Link'll make sure he gets it, no matter how embarrassing it is to ask for it.
> 
> (TW for daddy kink and mention of punishment for another sub)

If you're anything like Mike, you learn pretty quickly as a kid that there are things you're absolutely not supposed to discuss in polite society. On the same ticket, those are the exact things you overshare as a teenager, most often due to the influence of certain alcoholic beverages and herbal substances. And then you grow out of your oversharing tendency. You keep your vices, but you close your mouth.  
  
That is, until you get a nice adult job that leads into a strange new, ah, dominating partnership - say, you being the _not_ dominating part of that partnership - and suddenly sharing is demanded of you. Consensually demanded, of course, but demanded nonetheless.  
  
How do you adjust?  
  
Simple. You squirm the entire time you're sharing what you want and you watch your dom take sadistic pleasure in every bit of that squirming.  
  
"Hey, Link?" Mike asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the door of Link and Rhett's office.  
  
Link looks over, finger tracing over the swell of his bottom lip, eyebrows lifted. "Yeah, buddy, what's up?"  
  
Link's voice is clearly in work mode. Mike hesitates, opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds, before he breathes a nervous laugh. "Are you busy? 'Cuz I-I can come back."  
  
"No." Link wrinkles his brow now. "What's up? Problem with a video? Somebody in the office?"  
  
Mikes bites his bottom lip. "...can I go with 'other?'"  
  
There's no hesitation, no confusion. Link immediately flashes a toothy grin and leans back in his chair, as easy as can be. "Ah, 'other,' yeah, my favorite." He waves indistinctly. "Go on, shut the door, let's chat."  
  
That is maybe the opposite of what Mike wants. When he's shut in an office with Link there's this sense that what they're discussing is filthy or wrong, like maybe if Mike has to discuss it behind closed doors, he shouldn't have to discuss it at all. And Link's done a lot of work with Mike, normally in the soft throes of aftercare when Mike is cuddled up to him and boneless with fluttery eyelashes, to teach Mike that he doesn't need to feel that shame when he asks for things, that everything he wants, as long as it's consensual, is valid.  
  
So Mike hesitates near the door. He shifts his weight again. And he looks away.  
  
"Mike?" Link prompts.  
  
"Can we go somewhere else?" Mike asks quietly. "Like, it, we don't, it can still be a place with a door, but...like, I don't..."  
  
There's a squeak as Link gets up. "Yeah, we can go somewhere else," Link says breezily. He grabs Mike's hand when he gets to the door and gives him a gentle tug so he follows in his wake. "I've got the perfect place in mind."  
  
Mike's mind always goes a little quieter when Link's got a hand on him. They make their way through the hallway, through rooms, and instead of seeing the eyes following them, wondering if Mike's in trouble, wondering what a new sub like Mike fucked up this time, Mike just..focuses. He feels the warmth of Link's fingers around his. He feels Link rub a soothing thumb over the back of his hand. It's nice. It's content.  
  
Which is maybe why Mike doesn't realize where they're going until they're actually there.  
  
"Uh..." Mike blinks up at the sun, feeling the warmth of it on his skin.  
  
"Good a place as any, right?" Link asks.  
  
Mike looks at Link, sees the bright grin on his face, and he immediately begins to blush. "I-I don't know if this is what I had in mind."  
  
"Why not?" Link lets his hand go finally and makes his way to a box in the little courtyard they've built up. He perches against it, his lean legs stretching out in front of him, and tilts his head to the side.  
  
"Well, uh, it's just that..." Mike looks up. He can already see someone walking down the sidewalk across the street through the chain links of the fence. "I mean, I wanted to talk to you about...about a _scene._ "  
  
"Yeah," Link murmurs. There's a certain breathiness on his voice, something that always lingers there when Link's more turned on than he needs to be, and a little flick of Mike's eyes downward tell him that Link's definitely got an interest in whatever's gonna be discussed here. His pants are too tight to hide even the smallest flicker of interest.  
  
That's what it is, then. Link's turned on by the fact that anyone could hear what Mike's going to talk about, could judge him for it, could think about what a filthy little slut Mike is.  
  
Mike doesn't mean for the goosebumps to crawl down his neck and spine, but there they are, jumpstarting his heart like a syringe of adrenaline.  
  
"Oh," Mike says quietly. His legs feel a little shaky. He leans back against the wall.  
  
"So go on," Link says. "You had something in mind, yeah?"  
  
Mike flicks his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. His cheeks are hot under is beard. Fuck. They build props out here sometimes. Anyone could walk in on this discussion. That shouldn't make him nearly as hot as it does. "...yeah, I, uh...I just..."  
  
"Where d'you wanna start with it?" Link asks. "D'you wanna come over here to talk about it?" He gestures vaguely toward the ground, and Mike can see the gravel that's lightly strewn there, knows that Link would expect him to kneel there, and Mike would absolutely ruin his jeans if he did so, would have holes in the knees in minutes, but there's still a certain appeal there.  
  
Mike wanders over on shaky legs and kneels on the bite of the gravel, sucking in a sharp breath at the bite of pain. He's never been ridiculously masochistic, but there's something pleasant about pushing his body somewhere that it doesn't wanna go. The pain is just a similarly unpleasant side effect.  
  
Link's fingers find Mike's hat and tug it off so he can pet through Mike's hair, slow but sure, just like Mike likes. "Are you punishing yourself for what you're about to ask?" Link asks curiously.  
  
Mike knows he's not allowed to lie to Link. "Yeah," he murmurs, because he hadn't thought about it until Link put words to it, but God, that makes a lot of sense.  
  
Link hums in response. He pets a little more, and his hand is just jerky enough at the end of each movement to make Mike shake a little on his knees to find purchase, makes the gravel dig into new, tender areas through his pants. "Go at your own pace, man."  
  
Mike focuses on the dueling sensations of Link's touch versus the sharp feel of the gravel. He forces himself to breathe in hopes that he'll force himself to speak too. "I-I've never talked about wanting this."  
  
"First time for everything," Link says. He scratches lightly but pleasantly at Mike's scalp, sending a little chill over his neck that wakes him up a little more to the moment. "I'm glad you're comfortable enough with this now to bring it up."  
  
The pleasure from the compliment is too sweet. Mike's eyelashes flutter a little at it. "I, uh...so you know that I, um. I like...when you do things for me."  
  
Link stays quiet. When Mike doesn't speak again, Link begins prompting. "When I do sexual things for you?"  
  
"Kinda," Mike murmurs.  
  
"When I take care of you?"  
  
"Yeah," Mike says quickly, "yeah, yeah, when you take care of me, I like that."  
  
"I like taking care of you too," Link says gently.  
  
More little spurts of pleasure twisting around the fact that Mike isn't an inconvenience, that Link enjoys this too. He makes a quiet sound, then clears his throat, trying to hide it. "It's really nice when you do that, and it makes me feel sort of...sort of small, I guess, but in a good way, knowing that I've got this...big caretaker watching over me. And I really like it."  
  
More pausing. More waiting. More prompting. "Do you want me to guess what you want to play with?" Link asks.  
  
Mike feels how his skin is so hot and warm. "Yeah."  
  
Link gives a little sigh, just a minor warning. Link wants Mike to share this, Mike knows, but he just, he's, there's... "If I don't get it right on the third guess, you have to tell me what it is, all right?"  
  
"Yes sir," Mike says, quiet and ashamed.  
  
"Ageplay," Link suggests. "Like, do you want to be in littlespace."  
  
Mike flushes deeper. "No sir."  
  
"Okay." Link considers, clicking his tongue as he thinks. "What about immobility? Do you want me to tie you up so that I'm the only one who can take care of you, like, so you can't do anything yourself?"  
  
"No sir," Mike says again.  
  
"All right, last chance for me." There's a long quiet moment where Mike tries not to move, where he just feels the sweat starting to pool on his skin from the California heat. Link makes a noise. "Ah. What about a daddy kink?" he asks. "Do you want your daddy to take care of you?"  
  
Mike stays silent. He feels the sweat drip slowly down his back under his shirt.  
  
"Answer me when I speak to you, Mike," Link says.  
  
"Yes sir," Mike mumbles.  
  
"Good," Link murmurs. He pushes the hair away from Mike's forehead, uses just enough force to pull his head back to look up at Link. "Does my baby boy want his daddy in charge of him?" he asks almost sweetly.  
  
Fuck, the pet name gets to him. It's a low rush, hot and devastating, a river pooling right under his skin and scorching his veins. "Yes sir," Mike says again, his voice cracking.  
  
Link flashes him a smile, toothy and wide. The sun shines on his hair and brings out softer highlights. It illuminates Link so perfectly, makes him look almost ethereal, and there's nobody else that Mike would ever want in charge of him. "C'mon, boy," he murmurs. He thumbs over Mike's cheek. "Call me what you really wanna call me."  
  
Mike forgets how to breathe for a moment. It chokes up in his throat. He swallows the knot down hard, inhales shakily, and focuses right on Link's face when he murmurs "Yes, Daddy."  
  
"Good." Link's voice is rough and breathy again. He leans down and touches a kiss to Mike's forehead, right here, outside, right where anybody could see, and somehow it feels filthier than their entire discussion, the fact that cameras are all over this office and someone will see this one act of sweetness. "Good boy."  
  
Mike whines a little, trying to coax Link into a kiss on the mouth as he tips his head, but Link just chuckles quietly and comes back to his feet. "No, baby boy, c'mon, you've gotta focus," Link says softly. He takes Mike's hands and pulls him to his feet, and Mike's legs shake as the pain starts to recede from his knees, replaced with a hot sensation as blood rushes through them. "You got things you gotta do, yeah? Got things you gotta go get from the store for videos. Don't you and Alex have things you gotta film too?"  
  
Mike touches his forehead to Link's shoulder as he tries to catch his breath, to stabilize his footing. "Yes, Daddy," he murmurs, then catches himself. He groans again.  
  
Link catches Mike by the back of the neck with another grin. He tips Mike's head back so he can see him better. "All right," he murmurs. He pats Mike gently on the cheek before he hands him his hat. "When do you wanna play?"  
  
Mike closes his eyes tightly so he can see the bullet point list of things he needs to do this week. He really needs to get some laundry done, had hoped to do that tonight if Alex wasn't doing any, but that can wait. Who needs boxers, right? Not Mike, that's for sure. "As soon as possible?" Mike asks, hoping it isn't too presumptuous.  
  
"How 'bout tonight?" Link asks. "After you and me're done with our stuff for the day?"  
  
"Oh God." Mike can't help but smile at the eagerness inside of him. "I just almost creamed my pants."  
  
Link laughs, hooting and loud, and pats him on the back. "That's a yes, then?"  
  
"Yes sir," Mike says. He meets Link's eyes again, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"All right," Link says. "Come to the office when you're done. You'll just have to wait if I'm not."  
  
Mike nods. Pretty par for the course. The office is pretty soundproof too, and that makes it a chill place to settle down and wait while Link is putting together loose ends from the day.  
  
"Cool." Link starts to head back toward the door and Mike follows. "Better be extra nice to Rhett today, then," Link says so casually. "He's gonna be waiting for us to get done so he can drive me home."  
  
Mike stops. He swallows. "I-is Rhett gonna be there watching?"  
  
Link looks at him, brow quirked. "Do you want him to be?"  
  
Mike tries to see if there's a right answer already tucked into that question. He can't read Link's face worth anything, though. He shakes his head.  
  
"Use your words," Link murmurs with the slightest hint of warning.  
  
"No sir," Mike is quick to say.  
  
"Then he won't be." Like it's that simple, like Rhett's not gonna be pissed off just sitting for them to get done. When Mike looks away he thinks he's being subtle, but Link clicks his tongue, no doubt read Mike's face as easy as anything. "Don't you be worrying about Rhett. He'll be real occupied."  
  
Mike wants to ask, curiosity running through him like a current, but he knows how touchy Link gets when any of the subs ask about his plans for anybody. If Link wants their advice, he'll ask for it. Otherwise he wants that total control. It's a fair point. "Can I get you anything while I'm out?" Mike asks instinctively.  
  
Link holds the door open for him and flashes him another wide grin, so bright that it makes Mike wanna squirm a little more. Doesn't feel like he deserves that level of sunshine sometimes. "Why?"  
  
Because Link has always been so kind and patient with him, even when it grates on Link to do so. Because Link will do this thing for him, even if Link doesn't personally get off on it. Because Link understands Mike to the depths of himself in ways that a vanilla romantic partner never could. "I mean, I'll already be at the store," that's what Mike says. "I could grab anything, no sweat."  
  
Now that they're back in the comfort of the hallway, door shut, no potential curious and nosy fans with cameras outside, Link pulls Mike in for a quick kiss, a soft reward that warms him all the way down to his toes. "No, baby boy," Link murmurs, so close to Mike's mouth that he can feel the brush of his words. "You've been good enough for me." Link smirks. "I'll get what I want later, don't you worry."  
  
Link walks off, then, leaving Mike to sag back against the door, a little weaker than he thought he'd be. Well. So maybe Link will get off to this too after all.  
  
It takes him a good minute and a half, maybe, and it takes Alex going down the hallway to draw Mike's attention, to make him perk up and follow him so they can get shit done, but Mike finally gets his head back in the game and somehow, _somehow,_ gets videos done.  
  
He's pretty sure that Link's being extremely intentional when he locks eyes more than once with Mike during the filming of GMM that day, but Mike only pops a little bit of a boner every time, so it's okay.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Mike lingers at the shut door of Link and Rhett's office once he's finished with his work for the day. He can already hear people saying their goodbyes to each other, getting ready to leave, and though he knows that Link told him to come right away when he was done, there's...it's...listen, a closed door typically means that something is happening, and Mike has no idea if Link's order from that morning supersedes the old order of 'do not disturb a closed door.'  
  
He's risking punishment either way. And there's not a lot of noise going on through the door that he can hear, so maybe it'll be okay. He knocks.  
  
There's a sharp sound, what might be an inhalation, and just as Mike is preparing to run and hide around the corner and pretend it wasn't him it's followed with a "Come in."  
  
Mike shuts his eyes tightly. He probably fucked up. That's fine. He can take a spanking before he gets to play. He opens the door.  
  
There's more novelty to seeing Rhett naked than Mike is willing to admit. Link keeps Rhett so tight to his chest when they play, keeps him out of sight of everyone else. Mike's pretty sure that the only other sub who's allowed to play with Rhett would be Stevie, actually, but Stevie's the gayest woman that Mike's ever had the fortune of meeting, so he can't imagine that either Stevie or Rhett would voluntarily ask to play with each other, would only do so under Link's command.  
  
Rhett, though, he's tall and firm with skin that looks almost golden with tan next to his hair, and Mike is...rather understandably distracted as he watches Link rock a plug of frankly absurd size inside of Rhett while Rhett bends over the couch and makes a low sound that Mike can't quite tell is pain, pleasure, or both.  
  
"Have a seat, Mike," Link says breathlessly. "Shut the door behind you."  
  
Fuck, right. Mike closes the door, catches it at the last second so it doesn't slam shut in his enthusiasm, and hurries over to Link's desk chair. The soft pillow he has them kneel on is already on the floor, so Mike falls to it, winces and bites his tongue to hold back the pained noise when his raw, tender knees slam into it.  
  
His back is to the couch from here, and Mike focuses his eyes on the slow blinking lights of Link's computer tower, listening to the rough sounds of Rhett and the answering complete silence from Link. He hears the soft command of "Suck" from Link, the slick noise of Rhett's mouth, and then a groan from Rhett that makes Mike blink a little faster, trying to figure out why. And then Link sighs, apparently satisfied, and there's a rustle of couch cushions. "Get dressed," Link says, and Rhett takes a shaky breath before Mike hears the jingling of a belt, the whisper of fabric, a quiet zipping.  
  
There's an audibly deep kiss behind him, complete with slick tongues and softly clicking mouths, one that goes on far longer than Mike's used to receiving unless he's in the thick of sex with Link, and Mike wants so badly to turn his head, to watch Link and Rhett push so close together, but...but no. He has to be good.  
  
"Don't touch yourself," Link murmurs, and Mike instinctively looks down at his hand, sees with relief that it's far away from his own cock, that Link's probably issuing a command to Rhett instead. "Don't talk to nobody. Just sit and wait for me, all right?"  
  
"Yes sir," Rhett murmurs, thick and husky, and Mike can feel a tickle down his spine. He's never heard Rhett sound so submissive before.  
  
"Good boy." Link's voice is so soft, but Mike can hear the twist of his words, can hear Link smiling as he says them. There's a pat, one that makes Rhett grunt, and then Mike listens as Rhett leaves the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving him alone with Link.  
  
Well, sweet, Mike's already half hard in his pants and they haven't even started yet.  
  
Link's shoes are almost silent on the carpeted floor, but Mike can practically _feel_ Link approaching him. "Did you peek?" Link asks.  
  
"No sir," Mike says maybe a little too quickly. He can still remember the almost wicked look on Link's face when Mike came through the door, when he was practically fucking into Rhett with the plug. He doesn't wanna do anything to make Link use any of that sadistic glee to punish Mike.  
  
Link makes a soft sound, more a hum than anything, and tugs off Mike's hat. He sets it on his desk and smooths it out so there aren't any wrinkles in the fabric. "Good," he says. "I'd hate to have to spank my baby boy already."  
  
Oh, all right, they're going right the fuck into it, then. Mike swallows hard and looks down at the floor. The last thing he wants is for Link to already see how affected Mike is just by being in here, waiting for whatever Link is going to give him. "No, sir, I've been good," Mike says. His voice cracks again. Fantastic.  
  
"Good," Link says again. Link snaps his fingers just to draw Mike's attention to his hand, where it's waiting for Mike to reach for it, and Mike lets Link pull him to his feet. "C'mon, now, we don't wanna keep Rhett waiting too long, do we?"  
  
Mike feels a flutter in his chest at Link's almost buoyant tone. He has a feeling that Link wants to keep Rhett waiting for hours if he can, though Mike's not sure what Rhett must've done to deserve that. Did Link even give Rhett the option to sit in a chair? Maybe Rhett has to kneel somewhere in the hallway the whole time that Link and Mike are doing their scene.  
  
It's known around the office that Rhett and Link stay late at the office one night a week, them the only two in the building besides security and custodial services, that they sleep overnight sometimes in a little nook that they have set up with bunk beds, but Mike's never actually been there. As far as he understands it's pretty exclusively for Rhett and Link, not a place for scenes, but, well, apparently he's wrong about that given that Link leads him straight there.  
  
"Have you played with daddy kink with anybody before?" Link asks. Standard briefing for every new kink. Mike could probably go through it in his sleep. He shakes his head. "Have you ever wanted to?"  
  
The first face Mike thinks of is Alex, of course, not just because they live together, but because Mike's wanted to suck Alex's dick since pretty much the first second he saw him. "No sir," Mike says. He's been fortunate so far that Link hasn't made them play together. It's kept Mike's crush at a manageable enough level.  
  
"All right." Link lets go of Mike's hand and sits on the bottom bunk bed, sighing like he's letting out all his tension from that day. Link stretches out his arms, then twists his spine, sending sharp cracks through the air. "Anything special you want me to know about it?"  
  
Mike starts shifting his weight from foot to foot again, then feels silly and tries to make himself stop. "I-I really like it when you call me, uh..."  
  
Link waits. Link watches him with a smile, enjoying himself a little too much.  
  
Mike clears his throat. "'Baby boy.'"  
  
"Good," Link says. He grins wider. "I like calling you that. Any limits today you can think of?"  
  
Mike looks down at his knees. He forces himself to speak. "My knees hurt like hell, so, uh, if I could maybe...not be on them."  
  
"Understood." Link might be a sadist, but Mike trusts Link with every inch of himself. He knows Link has the final call in scenes, but Link's never pushed Mike beyond his limits without prior discussion and reaffirming of safe words. Mike feels pretty safe about it so far in this scene. "C'mere, baby," Link says, holding out his hand again, and Mike comes toward him immediately. "Kick off your shoes, stay awhile."  
  
Mike toes them off as he goes, then collects them and places them next to each other by the bed, side by side, perfectly aligned. He glances up at Link and sees the approval in his eyes.  
  
"And me," Link says. He holds his feet straight out in front of him. "Take care of Daddy's too."  
  
Mike doesn't mean to make that whimpering sound, but hell, it's out there now, he might as well roll with it instead of being embarrassed. He comes forward and leans down to cup Link's firm calf through Link's jeans, to hold it steady as he unlaces Link's shoes. It feels like such a fucking domestic thing, like something Mike would do after waiting for his dad to get home from work all day, and Mike feels himself flush from head to toe as he tugs Link's shoe off and sets it on the ground.  
  
As he works on the other, he forces himself not to look at Link's face. He can feel how hard Link is watching him, can practically feel the pleasure radiating off of him. He knows this is what Mike likes doing. He likes being given little commands, likes filling them, likes bringing Link things that he asks for or craves. It's already starting to slow the thought rate in Mike's head. Already making the world a little less overwhelming.  
  
Mike sets Link's shoes down side by side too and looks up, already rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly from how satisfied he is by completing such a little thing.  
  
"Good boy," Link says, grinning from ear to ear. Link shifts until his back is against the wall, his face and body shadowed by the top bunk blocking the light. "C'mere, baby boy, come see me."  
  
Mike dips his head as he approaches. He stares at the carpet under his feet, then the designs under his ass once he sits and starts scooting across the comforter. He drags the comforter a bit with him as he goes, but he'd rather risk a quick swat for that instead of enduring the pain of crawling forward on his hands and knees.  
  
There's no swat, though. There's just Link coaxing Mike into his lap, Mike's shoulder facing Link's chest, and Mike doesn't fight the urge to sink into Link with a shaky sigh.  
  
"Tell me about your day," Link prompts, arms wrapping so sweetly around Mike's waist, and Mike's eyelashes flutter. He forgets how to breathe for a minute. But then he acquiesces.  
  
He tells Link in halting terms about what he and Alex filmed that day. He tells Link about when he hit his funny bone during filming GMM and almost cried from the sheer effort of holding in his pain and breath so that he didn't ruin the audio during filming or distract anybody from their jobs. He tells Link about challenging himself to meet a specific deadline that he set himself with something he was working on and how he got it done right in time, even though he was about to piss his pants from how he hadn't moved from when he started to when he finished. He tells Link about what he ate for lunch. He tells Link all of it, from the big things to the small things.  
  
He can't stop himself. He's being held so gently. He feels like there's a cool river trickling over his skin, lowering his core temperature, slowing his thoughts even further. It's incandescent.  
  
Mike doesn't realize how heavily he's leaning into Link until Link shifts, and Mike moves instinctively, trying to make sure he doesn't put any part of Link's body to sleep. "That's...that's about it," Mike murmurs, shaken back to awareness, already feeling a little sheepish again.  
  
"Sounds like you had a good day, baby boy," Link says. His voice is quiet and breathy, and like Pavlov it drags an immediate response out of Mike, makes him remember his cock in his pants, how it used to be hard, how it could be hard again so easily. "You did some good work today, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," Mike murmurs. "Was a good day, D-Daddy."  
  
"Good." Link presses a soft kiss to Mike's cheek, warm and delicate, and Mike's eyelashes flutter. "Now it's time for you to relax and let Daddy take care of you, huh?"  
  
"Oh," Mike breathes. His heart pounds in his chest so hard that he swears Link should be able to feel it. "I-I'd like that."  
  
One of Link's huge hands ends up on Mike's thigh, soft, coaxing, and Mike shivers. He spreads his legs. "Yeah, good, let Daddy see, huh?" Link asks.  
  
Mike buries his face in Link's neck and lets out a shaky sigh. Fuck, _fuck,_ just, just feeling Link's fingers brush over the smooth, worn denim of Mike's jeans, warm enough through the fabric that Mike can practically feel them bare on his skin, it's enough to fluster Mike. Maybe this was a bad decision. He already feels open and raw when Link's barely touched him.  
  
"I-I..." Mike whimpers again against Link's skin, eyelashes fluttering in a butterfly kiss.  
  
"Want Daddy to be gentle tonight?" Link asks softly.  
  
"Mm-hmm." Mike squeezes his eyes shut and feels his cells keen as Link rubs his inner thigh.  
  
"All right." Link kisses Mike's forehead, then his temple, then his cheek, his fingers rubbing smooth circles. "I got you, baby boy, you don't need to be afraid."  
  
He's right. He's so right. Mike leans into him a little more, letting his weight go, trusting Link to support him, and Link's hand slides a little higher in reward. Mike's cock feels like a fucking beacon, like it's straining against his pants to demand notice, demand contact, and Mike almost laughs at it, at how desperate he is. He doesn't know if he's ever wanted Link more.  
  
Link meant it when he said he'd be gentle. His hand presses between Mike's legs, palm flush against Mike's cock, and Mike whines and presses his hips up, feels the sear of the contact tickle through him. "Fff..." Mike gasps when he bites back the desire to say that word, to, to say... "Can I swear?" Mike asks in a choked voice.  
  
"Mm?" Link reaches to cup Mike's cheek, to coax him out of Link's shoulder so he can see his face. "What was that, baby?"  
  
"Can I swear?" Mike asks again. Maybe Daddy wants him to watch his language, to...  
  
"Yeah," Link says with a soft smile. His lids are drooping almost languidly, tranquil and sweet. "Daddy wants to know if you feel good, c'mon."  
  
Link pushes down again and Mike gasps, sinks back down against him. "Fuck, oh, _oh._ "  
  
"Yeah, that's it."  
  
God, if there's any time that Mike's wanted to be fucked, it's right the fuck now. He can practically see Link's face as Link presses inside of Mike, hard, desperate, taking what he needs from him, leaving Mike with no payoff but knowing that he did a good job, that he was a goddamn perfect hole to fuck. As Link rubs Mike's cock Mike reaches blindly downward until he gets Link's dick through his pants too.  
  
"Hey, hey," Link says, not sharp but just enough edge to the words to make Mike freeze. "What're you doing, baby?"  
  
Mike's brain is practically mush. He has to fight through it to remember his drive, his instincts. "Wanna make you feel good, Daddy," he practically coos. He tips his head to try and steal and kiss, and Link lets him have just one before he pulls back. Mike whimpers. "Can I?"  
  
"Daddy's taking care of _you_ today," Link murmurs. "Remember?"  
  
Mike wrinkles his brow. "But-"  
  
"You've worked hard all day," Link reminds him. He squeezes Mike's cock through his pants, makes Mike gasp. "So now you're gonna be good and let Daddy take what he wants from you, okay?"  
  
Mike nods. His words are already slurring a little when he speaks again. "Should I go get some lube?" He knows there's a sub or two that don't mind being fucked dry, that get off on the pain and the stretch and the burn, but not Mike, and Link's already said he would never ask Mike to do that, not ever.  
  
"No, baby." Link kisses his forehead again. "Not gonna fuck you. Just gonna touch you."  
  
Mike whines again. He's stuck between the perfect sensation of Link's hand on his cock and the need to do something for Link, _anything._ "But that won't make you feel good," he presses.  
  
Link moves his hand back to Mike's thigh, squeezes it just hard enough to make Mike yelp, not quite enough to bruise. "Does Daddy have to spank you?" Link asks.  
  
"No," Mike says quickly. His voice doesn't crack that time, thank God. "Just want you to feel-"  
  
"Baby boy."  
  
Mike goes quiet. He fists his hands in Link's shirt and buries his face in his neck again, waiting for his punishment.  
  
There's silence for a few seconds, just Mike breathing too heavily, until he squeaks when Link pinches his leg. "Daddy wants to get his baby boy off," Link murmurs as Mike comes down from the sharp haze of the pain that doesn't mix perfectly with his mushy brain. "Daddy wants to touch his baby boy's pretty cock. Wants to watch his baby boy come all over himself."  
  
The pain haze fades. Mike is left quiet and content, placated from being punished for speaking over Link, his body still thrumming from smelling Link, feeling him, being so close to him in every way.  
  
"Does that sound nice?" Link prompts.  
  
"Sounds real nice," Mike murmurs back. He nuzzles Link's neck and leaves behind one, two, three featherlight kisses.  
  
"Mmm, good." Link's hand moves back between Mike's legs, but now it's going for his belt, and Mike has no idea how Link undoes it with only one hand, but he does. "Will you make some noise for me while I touch you, baby?"  
  
Mike feels a flush go over his entire body again, feels overheated and a little dizzy. Link knows that'll embarrass him. Also knows just how much Mike loves pushing a little too close to being heard, getting right at the edge and never quite going over the danger threshold. "Yeah," he murmurs.  
  
"Yeah, what?"  
  
"Daddy," Mike quickly corrects.  
  
"That's my sweet baby boy."  
  
Mike wiggles out of his pants under Link's supervision, lets his boxer briefs get tugged down too, and feels both flustered and pleased by the soft sound Link makes when Mike's cock bounces into view. He's way harder than he wanted to be at this point, enough that he's leaving a drop of precum on his t-shirt where his cock is pressing up against his tummy, but Mike doesn't even think he cares right now. Who's gonna say anything? Alex? Alex will just be jealous he didn't get to play today.  
  
There's that desire to play further with Alex, to, to tell Daddy what Mike wants, to see if he'll get to play _against_ Alex one day, or _with_ him, or _anything,_ especially if Daddy'll be there supervising, making sure Mike does everything right-  
  
Link holds his hand up to Mike's mouth. "Spit for me."  
  
Mike does. He should feel awkward about it, but he wants to give Link everything he can.  
  
Especially if it means Link is going to wrap his slick hand around Mike's cock and listen to Mike shiver.  
  
"Yeah," Link coos. He noses at Mike's hair with a smile, teasing his hand so gently over Mike's cock, like an afterthought. "Yeah, that's it."  
  
Mike squeezes and releases Link's shirt with little gurgling cries that he tries to keep inside, his mouth pressed shut, but, but Link _wanted_ him to make noise, he _wants_ to hear Mike show how good he feels. "Mnh-" Mike fights it just a second longer, then opens his mouth and moans against Link's skin.  
  
Fuck, Mike can't keep himself from squirming in Link's lap, and that makes him feel how hard Link is. He's getting off on this. On watching Mike sit in his lap and let Link touch him how he wants to touch him, not how Mike wants or how Mike demands, just...it feels so safe. So soft. Even with the tendrils of heat wrapping around him from top to bottom with every tug of Link's hand, Mike doesn't feel like he'll fall, like he'll drown.  
  
Daddy's got him.  
  
"You're gorgeous," Link whispers. "Look atcha."  
  
Mike gasps. "Daddy, please," he whispers back.  
  
"Shh." Link noses at Mike's face and Mike tips his head back so Link can give him a warm kiss. "Shh, let me."  
  
Mike nods, brow furrowed, before he leans in for more.  
  
There's something so gentle and pure about this, about just sitting in Link's lap and whimpering against his mouth while Link touches him. Their tongues rub against each other. Link thumbs over the head of Mike's cock, squeezes, eases back down, leaves every inch of Mike desperate and shivery.  
  
Mike breaks the kiss with a little cry, eyes still squeezed shut. "Faster?" he asks.  
  
"That what you want, baby boy?" Link asks, his soft voice almost crooning the words, so melodic, so gentle. "You gonna get off for Daddy if he jerks you off a little faster?"  
  
Fuck, there's tingles all over his body. Mike presses against Link with a shiver, his toes curling in his socks. "Yes," he whispers. "God, yes, _please._ "  
  
"Yeah," Link whispers, barely gives it any sound, his hand picking up pace until Mike can barely breathe.  
  
"Oh," Mike whimpers against Link's neck. "Oh, oh God-"  
  
"C'mon, baby." Link grunts, sharp and visceral. "C'mon, make a mess for Daddy."  
  
Mike cries out desperately as he comes, over and over again, breathing in hot stale air against Link's neck and letting it out once more. His whole body feels like it seizes. There's a sudden shift in balance that makes him feel dizzy when he tips backward, when Link comes back with him, and Mike lays there on his back with his blood sizzling just under the surface with Link's arms wrapped around him.  
  
"Oh my God," Mike whines. He pulls Link in for another kiss, feeling so presumptuous for doing so, but, but he _needs_ it, he needs Link as close as he can get him, feels like a balloon that's gonna float away if Link doesn't tether him to the ground. He's not going to cry. He's not quite that far gone. But goddamn, he needs Link.  
  
They kiss for endless seconds. Mike buries himself in the familiar taste of Link's lips, and it's like a blanket pulled over him in a blizzard, bleeding the tension out of him with every breath he takes. He finally pulls back an inch, eyes closed, catching his breath, and he feels Link nuzzle into his neck with a low, pleased sound. "How's that?" Link asks.  
  
Mike laughs and covers his face. "Perfect," he says, muffled. "Goddamn."  
  
"You were great," Link says, and Mike tries to hide himself even more. "So great. Fucking hot."  
  
"Thanks," Mike mumbles.  
  
"I mean it, baby boy."  
  
"Ugh." Mike's hips buck of their own will. "If you call me that again when I'm post-coital, it's your responsibility when I die."  
  
Link laughs softly and kisses Mike's cheek. "Duly noted."  
  
They lay there for a few moments, less than a minute, before Mike sits up. There's cum all over his shirt. "Nice," he says, investigating.  
  
"You like it?" Link asks with a grin. "Thinking about taking up a new art form."  
  
"Yeah, dude, think you're gonna make a killing."  
  
Link hums, reaching over to stir the still slick parts of Mike's cum around his shirt. "Want me to call Alex and make him lick it off of you when you get home?"  
  
Mike looks over at him a little too quickly, eyes wide, chest tight.  
  
As the silence stretches out Link glances up. He blinks. "What?"  
  
"You know?" Mike asks quietly.  
  
Link smiles, but it's soft, not predatory, not dominating. "I mean, I'm, yeah, I think everybody can figure out how you feel about Alex, Mike."  
  
"Shit." Mike rubs his face.  
  
Link clears his throat. "I could...I could bring you both in, you know. Play with you together. Would you like that?"  
  
"I..." Every part of Mike's body screams yes and every part of his heart screams no. Fuck. Now he's gonna have to actually _think_ about his big gay crush. "...can I get back to you on that?"  
  
"Yeah." Link thumbs over Mike's cheek and soothes some of the pressure in his chest. "Take all the time you need, man."  
  
"Thank you." Mike clears his throat. There's only a few more seconds of silence before he gets up to put his pants back on.  
  
"You heading out already?" Link asks. "You feel good?"  
  
"Yeah." Mike analyzes the thickness in his mind. "Might go have some water. Maybe sit a little before I drive home."  
  
"Good plan. Text me when you get home so I know you're safe." Link watches as Mike dresses. It's when Mike's putting his shoes on that he speaks again. "Send Rhett up for me when you're leaving, yeah?"  
  
Oh man, what he wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall. "Yes sir," he says.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
Still shivery with praise, Mike leans over the bed to give Link another quick pop kiss, cheeks red under his beard, and heads out the door. He snags his hat from Link's desk and makes his way down the hall and finds Rhett kneeling in the hallway. Fuck, his knees have got to be killing him. His back too. He's too old for that shit. "Hey man," Mike says.  
  
Rhett doesn't even look at him. Mike remembers Link telling him not to talk to anybody.  
  
"Link wants to see you. He's in the nap room."  
  
Rhett doesn't respond.  
  
Well, it's not Mike's ass that's gonna be spanked.  
  
As Mike heads down to the kitchen, still swaying a little and trying to regain his balance, he hears Rhett stand up behind him and move away.  
  
Maybe if he listens real close, he'll be able to hear what goes down.


	3. Chase and Rhett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some perks to being a good sub, Chase thinks, like never drawing punishment, always being believed...and getting to talk your way into a scene with the guy you've got a massive crush on, that too.
> 
> (TW for double penetration, wrist binding, and overstimulation)

Chase wouldn't say he's a favorite sub. He's sure _other_ people would say that, whether they phrase it admirably or bitterly, but Chase wouldn't. It's not his place to determine if Link looks upon some subs a little higher than others, especially when Link makes a very targeted effort to spend time with them equally, to shower them all with the attention that they crave.  
  
So he wouldn't say that he's a favorite. But he will say that he's one of the most good.  
  
He doesn't crave punishment. He knows how it is for some of the others - Lizzie, Alex, Kevin, for example - how they are always burning a little hotter under the surface. Chase can remember the hour he spent sitting at Link's side one day, knees cushioned by the pillow, head resting on Link's thigh, and how while Link petted him absently, he brought up for the first time to Rhett the idea of regimented discipline. Link had suggested requiring it for a few of them, just a specific amount of spankings every week on Wednesday, when a few subs started getting "restless," as he'd phrased it, as something that would maybe make them more relaxed and help them settle into the week further instead of intentionally acting out for his attention.  
  
Rhett had been remarkably opinionated on the issue, bringing up pros and cons for each side, and Chase can remember blinking quickly and furrowing his brow as he listened. None of them ever spoke so openly with Link about advice for his strategies as a dom. Most of them had no prior experience with a dom before Link, and depending on how they phrased their advice, they could end up with an extremely creative punishment for trying to take charge of Link instead.  
  
Apparently Rhett is immune to that.  
  
Chase remembers the haze that crept over him from Link's caressing hand, remembers fighting through it to listen to their discussion - like equals, not a dom to his sub - and remembers turning his eyes to Rhett, studying his profile as Rhett continued working at his computer while he talked. And then Rhett had looked down at him, quirking a brow when he realized he had Chase's attention, before flashing him a little smile and a wink just as he went back to his screen.  
  
Obviously Rhett wasn't allowed to speak to him when Chase was going through a scene with Link, when Chase was supposed to be silent, small, and soft, but Chase remembers blushing from that small acknowledgment anyway.  
  
Chase wouldn't say that he's a favorite. But he'd be blind if he didn't say that Rhett is. And that's a little more fascinating to him than it probably should be. It's fair - Rhett and Link were each other's first experiences with this sort of play, they've built a friendship that's lasted longer than most marriages in the country, they've been there for each other through everything - but it's still...surprising? No, that's not the right word. Interesting. It's interesting to witness. And it sets Chase's curiosity bubbling enough that his thoughts start wandering down paths about Rhett that Chase hasn't let himself traverse in months.  
  
Chase doesn't feel things in sudden extremes. He doesn't get taken by surprise by his own emotions, desires, or needs. He feels them like a soft change in the breeze, feels the shift before he sees the results of it, like leaves blowing across the sidewalk just after his skin tickles. It means he's always prepared. He's never taken over by something, can instead study it from a distance and draw his own conclusions and make a plan of attack.  
  
That's why he's known for years that he's attracted to Rhett, maybe even has a crush of some kind on him, and has never let it rule him. He can work side by side with Rhett, can address ideas to him for a video, can squeeze into a booth next to him at a restaurant with the rest of the crew and make him laugh at a terrible joke, but he doesn't have to have more than that. He doesn't have to flirt. He doesn't have to press for something he knows he can't have, especially since Rhett is technically his boss, technically his superior. He knows that their office is, uh, more unconventional than most, but having what's basically an intense platonic experience with Link is one thing and entertaining actual romantic attraction toward Rhett? Quite another.  
  
Doesn't make the curiosity any easier to shake.  
  
He thinks about it one week while he's painting things for a video. It's a simple process without a lot of detail work, just laying a base coat that he'll decorate later, and it means his thoughts can run wilder than they usually could if he was handling a saw or a welder. Specifically they can run toward Rhett.  
  
Rhett is...fucking incredible, quite honestly. Not just from the fact that he stands out enough in a crowd to make him fascinating to look at. Not just from the fact that he's gorgeous. Not just from the fact that he's funny and witty and clever and a world of extremes that Chase loves to study. There's a million and one things that make him amazing, and that's why Chase feels that soft pull, the one in the base of his tummy that tells him he feels more adrenalized when Rhett enters in a room, which is followed by the swelling of bubbles in his gut, which is followed by the warmth that tingles in his cheeks.  
  
The question is if these reactions are actual romantic attraction or just a physical response to a visceral sexual attraction instead.  
  
And Chase is nothing but proactive when it comes to trying to answer questions.  
  
When the painting is done and has to set, Chase washes his hands thoroughly. He tugs on a soft hoodie to dampen the paint fumes sticking to his clothes. He tosses a breathmint in his mouth. And he goes searching. Link is easy to find, as always, tucked in his and Rhett's office, and Chase is relieved to see that Rhett is nowhere to be found, no doubt off somewhere overseeing something to do with the next video. So Chase shuts the door behind him with a quiet click and leans back against it for a moment.  
  
Link doesn't look away from his computer. He continues scrolling, clicking, occasionally typing. Normally that means that Chase should stay back, should wait for acknowledgment, but Chase is good 99% of the time. He thinks he can take a page out of Lizzie's book for once.  
  
It's a good thing that Chase is small, really, because it means he can crawl into Link's lap easily. He tucks his thick thighs in between Link's skinny hips and the arms of the chair, straddles him seamlessly, and laces his arms around Link's neck. He gently plays with the hair just above the nape of Link's neck - a rare privilege, something that he's shocked Link lets him get away with - and when there's no response, he begins to mouth at Link's ear.  
  
"Mmm," Link hums. He buries his long fingers in Chase's hair, scratching lightly over Chase's scalp while Chase nibbles with his lips, brushing over the faint mark that he swears he can see in Link's cartilage from an impulsive piercing long ago. He lathes his tongue over Link's earlobe and sucks it lightly into his mouth, then worries it between his teeth. "Either you've had too many raw oysters," Link murmurs in amusement, "or you've got something on your mind."  
  
"I might," Chase murmurs back. He moves his mouth to the sensitive skin right behind Link's ear, where he can lay soft kisses and hear how Link's breathing kicks up just a little faster. "D'you wanna hear about it?"  
  
"Well, you've already interrupted me, haven't you?" Link asks. There's an audible grin shaping his words, no doubt toothy and dangerous, and Chase feels goosebumps spread over his arms. "Suppose I make you tell me about it while I spank you."  
  
Chase already anticipated punishment. He arches his back as best as he can, presenting his ass immediately, and feels Link's chest shake under his as he laughs.  
  
Link wraps his arms around Chase instead, leaning back a little in the chair to get them both more comfortable, and turns his head so he can meet Chase's eyes with a grin. "All right, go on, then, I'm listening."  
  
Chase didn't, however, anticipate getting off so easily. He stares at Link for a moment, eyes wide, mouth open, before he settles back on Link's thighs. "I've been thinking about..."  
  
Link quirks a brow. He slides his hand up Chase's back, smooth and warm, and gently rubs his thumb over Chase's top vertebra. "You've been thinking about...?" he prompts.  
  
The heaviness of Link's thumb is a gentle warning. New subs have time to fiddle around with their thoughts when they come and interrupt Link. They can still have fits of shyness and demureness. Chase, however, who's been here for years now, he knows better. If he interrupts Link without even a bare thread of thought formed, then he deserves a pinch at the minimum, and he can practically feel his skin tingling under Link's touch in anticipation. "I have a scene in mind," he says.  
  
"Oh, do you?" Link's grin widens.  
  
"Namely...I have someone in mind I'd like to do a scene with," Chase corrects.  
  
"Are you going to tell me who?" Link asks. He presses down on that top vertebra, gives a dull press of pain, a sterner warning.  
  
Chase second guesses himself. He tugs at the lapel of Link's flannel, rubbing it between his fingers, biting his bottom lip as he bares another inch of Link's tanned skin. "Is there anyone I'm _not_ allowed to do a scene with?" he hedges.  
  
Link's patience wears out. He eases his fingers into Chase's hair and gives just sharp enough of a tug to make Chase gasp, to make goosebumps skitter across his skin. "You're getting close to losing your privileges with anybody for a while," Link drawls, his accent thickening just enough to make Chase shiver. "Do you wanna try this conversation again, boy?"  
  
"Yes sir," Chase whispers. He licks his lips and looks at Link pleadingly.  
  
Link's eyes soften immediately. He pets through Chase's hair and thumbs over his cheek. "Do it right this time and I won't punish you."  
  
Chase nods quickly. He knows better. This is a relationship of solid trust, of undying respect, and he'd insult it if he was hesitant over something this small after all they've been through together. He wraps his arms around Link's neck again and rests his forehead against his. "I wanna do a scene with Rhett."  
  
There's a long moment of silence, and Chase watches the multitudes slip through Link's eyes. Link wrinkles his brow, parts his mouth, and lets a thousand thoughts slip through his gaze, so quick and fleeting that Chase can't quite get a handle on them. "With Rhett," Link murmurs.  
  
"Yes sir," Chase murmurs back. "I'd really like that."  
  
"Huh." Link flicks his eyes over Chase's face from top to bottom, like he's trying to read him, and Chase works at keeping his expression as open and keen as he can. Link's thumb moves over Chase's cheek, along his jawbone, and finally flicks over his bottom lip. "You've never asked to do a scene with anybody before," Link reminds him. "What changed?"  
  
Chase still has the sting of his scalp to remind him to be honest. "I'd like to fuck him."  
  
"Oh," Link says. The grin comes back and it makes Chase relax a little more. "Really?"  
  
"Well." Chase shrugs. "I'd like to be fucked _by_ him, to be more specific."  
  
"I'll bet you do." Link's accent creeps back in even more, a thick drawl that makes Chase want to sink against him and kiss him for hours. He gives himself that privilege once, feeling the warmth of Link's lips under his own with a hum, and then pulls back enough to see Link's eyes sparkle. "Is that all you want?"  
  
"For now," Chase says slowly.  
  
"You got something else in mind?"  
  
Chase considers his words. He sits back a little more, is only kept from retreating further by Link's hands sprawling thick and warm on his back. "I'll know more after the scene."  
  
Link hums. He stares at Chase's mouth as he thinks, reaching to rub his own bottom lip, and Chase doesn't move. He barely even breathes. He's rewarded for his patience a good fifteen seconds later when Link breaks the silence. "I'm gonna be there," Link murmurs. "For the scene."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Chase says. "I want you to be there."  
  
"Good." Link reaches forward again, hands slowly dragging down Chase's back, and Chase lifts his ass again as soon as Link's fingers hit his belt and keep moving downward. "Will you wear a plug for me?" Link asks as he cups Chase's ass through his jeans.  
  
"Which one would you like?" Chase asks.  
  
"The purple one," Link says. "With the sparkles."  
  
Also known as the fucking huge one that took even Chase's breath away when Link presented it to him for the first time. Chase feels his legs ache at the mere idea, feels his thighs get shaky, feels his cock fill out a little in his jeans. "I love that one," Chase almost whispers.  
  
"It's your biggest one, ain't it?" Link asks. Chase nods and Link grins. "Good. I want you stretched out for us as best as you can get."  
  
Sometimes Link misspeaks on camera, on stage, on set. He rarely does it in the context of a scene. "For...'us?'" Chase prompts.  
  
Link slides his hand down so he can ever so gently press against Chase's balls through his jeans. "I want both our cocks in you at the same time, boy," Link murmurs. "How does that sound?"  
  
It sounds like Christmas and his birthday and Valentine's Day all came fucking early. Chase doesn't mean for the full body shiver to shake through him from top to bottom, but he nods eagerly. "I-I'd like that, sir."  
  
"Good." Link pulls Chase forward by the hips and Chase leans down to catch Link's mouth again, to kiss him sweetly for a few seconds before Link hums and nips at Chase's bottom lip and coaxes him into pulling back. "Tomorrow sound okay?"  
  
"Here?" Chase asks, feeling dizzy both from the promise of the scene and the taste of Link's lips.  
  
"Yeah," Link says. "We've got our beds for when we stay over."  
  
"Okay." Chase forces himself to consider logistics, but he doesn't have any plans for tomorrow that he can think of. "Should I bring a change of clothes?" Link and Rhett aren't the only ones who stay over sometimes.  
  
"Would you like that?"  
  
Chase considers being pressed into a bed next to Rhett or Link, considers having a warm and safe evening dreaming beside them and starting work fresh the next day. "Yes sir."  
  
"Then do it." Link quirks a brow. "Anything else?"  
  
"No sir," Chase says.  
  
"All right." Link gives him a quick but fond kiss on the forehead. "Get back to work."  
  
Chase heads back into the hallway on shaky legs, head fuzzy, mouth tingling. He turns the corner and stops immediately, looking up at Rhett where he almost collided with him, eyes wide. "Oh."  
  
"Hey," Rhett says, flashing him a smile and catching Chase's shoulder to steady him. "Watch out, I don't wanna call an ambulance for you today just 'cuz I ran you over."  
  
"Yes sir," Chase says falteringly, still in his soft headspace, feeling the heavy hand on him.  
  
Rhett's smile drops away and he furrows his brow. "You okay?"  
  
"I..." Chase thumbs over his shoulder. "Link, uh-"  
  
"Ah." Rhett squeezes his shoulder. "Say no more. Get something to drink, okay? Think you need a minute before you get back into those paint fumes."  
  
"Yeah." Chase stares up at Rhett for a few seconds more until Rhett chuckles and moves around him.  
  
Is Link gonna tell him now? Right now? What if Rhett says no? Fuck. Chase swallows the knot in his throat and makes his way to the kitchen. He makes his way through an entire Capri Sun before he gets his head on straight enough to paint again.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Chase is staring into his half-packed duffle bag, fingers knit behind his neck, doubting anything and everything about himself and his confidence and his attractiveness - what's the likelihood that Rhett would even want to fuck him? Can someone run some numbers on that? How likely is it that Link will have to convince Rhett to do it rather than Rhett enthusiastically jumping at the chance to fuck Chase before Link even finishes his sentence? And how likely is it that Rhett will turn the scene idea down flat? - when his phone vibrates from a text.  
  
It's four words from Link: _the scene is on_  
  
Chase flushes from head to toe, mouth going dry, feeling the low rush of heat in his blood. It's on. It's happening. Chase is going to be fucked, and by both of them at the same time. He takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly.  
  
His only response to Link is a good fifteen minutes later in the form of a picture. It's awkwardly taken, Chase straining his arm, his back, his neck, his hips, so that the finished product isn't at all what he imagined what it might look like. But it gets the message across. Naked Chase. Slick cheeks. Filled to the brim with a pretty sparkly plug.  
  
And the reply, which Chase reads five minutes later when he's getting in the car to head to work: _he won't be able to keep his hands off you_  
  
Chase shivers all over. He gives himself exactly three minutes in the car to get his head back on straight, as difficult as that is with the solid, steady ache of the plug pressing against his prostate. And then he drives while wiggling as rarely as he possibly can.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Normally Chase doesn't mind waiting. He's a patient guy. He had to be if he was going to be as successful and self-taught of a craftsman as he is. But when he comes into work, trying to hide his duffle bag from general view, his skin is already tingling from anticipation. There is a scene. It's going to happen. He's plugged up and ready for it.  
  
Which, first of all, fuck this plug, and second of all, thank God for this plug. He can't decide which of those thoughts is gaining more traction at the moment, mostly because he's not quite capable of logical thought with the pressure of it inside of him. He gets to the closest desk and leans against it for a moment, trying to very calmly focus, to rationalize with himself about how if he could make it through all of middle school without knowing that masturbation was a thing, then clearly he can make it through his daily tasks without losing his mind over the low grind of arousal in his belly.  
  
"Ooh, look at you!"  
  
Chase looks up and sees Stevie come around the desk, coffee mug in hand, grinning at him from ear to ear. "Huh?"  
  
"Your bag." She perches in her chair and draws a leg up to her chest. "Somebody's got a scene tonight, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I, yeah," Chase articulates intelligently. He sets the bag down. "Can I leave it here? Under your desk? So nobody messes with it."  
  
"Sure." Stevie wrinkles her brow as she drags the bag over with her foot, kicks it under her desk. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Chase considers what he should reveal, what he'd be embarrassed by revealing, all of that, but at the end of the day Chase is a big gay and Stevie is a big gay and they've been around the block together way too many times ever since this little thing with Link got started. "He's, uh, he's got me plugged," Chase murmurs.  
  
"Ooh." Stevie grins again. "Were you bad?"  
  
"Who, me?" Chase chuckles. It sounds deceptively normal, not like he's worried about his almost constant erection that's barely tucked into his jeans or that eventually his precum is going to bleed straight through the denim somehow. "No, I-I was good, actually, it's...I asked for the scene, so..."  
  
"Mmm, say no more." Stevie sips her coffee loudly. "You know you're gonna be filmed for the Crew video today, right?"  
  
Chase stares at her. "You're shitting me."  
  
"Nope."  
  
God. Chase rubs his face and leans into the desk and groans. "W-we can shoot it tomorrow."  
  
"Pretty sure Link insisted," Stevie says with palpable sympathy.  
  
Christ. Okay. That's...Chase hates being this way, but the last thing he is on the planet is an exhibitionist, and the idea that a channel of over eleven million subscribers could see him flustered and trying to hide an erection is the least pleasing thing he's ever thought about.  
  
"You okay?" Stevie asks again, breaking his thoughts.  
  
He hesitates. "Do you think he'd let me call a yellow on that?" he asks tentatively.  
  
"Aw, Chase." She reaches for his hand and Chase lets her take it, squeezing her fingers in turn. "You know he would, but...are you sure you should?"  
  
"No," he mumbles. He huffs. "I know the drill, all right, he likes pushing us a little bit every day, likes seeing us get comfortable with stuff we never thought we'd do, all of that, but...God, it's so embarrassing," he says with a laugh. "Like, you know that whoever films me is gonna know what's wrong the entire time."  
  
"I think it's Morgan," Stevie says. "Does that help?"  
  
It does. Morgan's still pretty new to this particular playground, but it's not his first rodeo, and the last thing he'd ever do is openly mock any of them for a scene they're going through. On a scale of who Chase would rather cuddle with for aftercare, excluding Link, he's pretty sure that Eddie is number one, then Stevie, and then Morgan at a solid number three. Definitely more reassuring than, say, Alex being in the room and teasing him the entire time and ruining footage so utterly that they might have to do a good three or four takes of whatever they need for the video.  
  
Chase whines. And then he sighs. "Yeah, okay."  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Getting set up to be filmed is the worst experience of Chase's life, he's pretty sure. Morgan is quiet and unassuming, of course, keeping his eyes on his camera and setting up the shot, not looking up even when Chase obviously turns around to adjust himself in his jeans, but it doesn't help the fact that Chase is aching. Doesn't help the fact that every time he so much as breathes he can feel this plug rub against his prostate just enough that he swears he can feel the heat of new precum sticking to his briefs. Fuck, they must be filthy now. He squirms.  
  
"All right," Morgan says, and Chase fights through the embers licking at his brain. It doesn't work. "Do you wanna start the shot at your workbench or-"  
  
"Can I have one more second?" Chase asks, voice squeaking.  
  
"Yeah," Morgan says immediately, "no problem."  
  
There's silence after that, a quiet that's only broken by Chase trying to catch his breath shakily. When he glances up, flushed, Morgan is scrolling on his phone, hand in his pocket, pleasantly disheveled, and Chase can't think of any better distraction than having Morgan's cock in his mouth. He's never seen it - Link hasn't seen fit to pair Morgan with anyone for a scene yet - but Morgan is all sharp angles and pretty eyes, and that means he's gotta have a nice ruddy cock, right?  
  
Morgan flicks his eyes up and fire races through Chase's veins when their gazes lock. Morgan gives one glance down to Chase's hard cock in his jeans, then shifts his weight as he audibly inhales and looks back up. "I can blow you, if it'd help," Morgan says softly.  
  
Pleasant idea, but not what Chase wants. He shakes his head and Morgan shrugs and looks back down at his phone. But Chase is still aching. Chase can even feel how he's salivating at an alarming rate. He takes a step forward and Morgan's eyes jolt up again. "Do you wanna facefuck me?" Chase asks before he can consider the repercussions that he might face from Link for that.  
  
Morgan quirks a brow, then smiles softly and clears his throat. "Not...particularly."  
  
"Oh," Chase says, then huffs as he leans back against his workbench again.  
  
Morgan laughs. "Sorry, man."  
  
"It's fine," Chase says, trying not to sound wheedling or whining.  
  
"The life and trials of two horny bottoms, am I right?" Morgan teases.  
  
It's possible the crassest thing Chase has ever heard Morgan say and it's not even all that crass, but it shocks Chase enough to make him laugh. "Yeah? What's got you fired up?"  
  
Morgan smiles again, eyes sparkling, and flicks his gaze down Chase's body, slowly enough that Chase can feel a flush everywhere that Morgan's eyes land. Silence, brimming with static softly licking over Chase's mind. And then Morgan rubs the back of his neck and puts his phone away, looking back at the camera and clearing his throat. "We should get this done," he says.  
  
Fuuuuck. Chase tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying desperately to center his thoughts past the constant hum of arousal, because it doesn't matter that he's shit with edging or that he wants nothing more than to ask Morgan to press a couple of fingers into Chase's mouth and press down on his tongue so his brain can go a little fizzier. None of that is going to get Chase's work done for the day so he can go get this scene started. "Okay," Chase finally says. "Okay, yeah, let's...yeah, we'll start behind the workbench."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Chase moves behind the workbench. He already has his materials set up for the day, is lucky enough that he doesn't have to work with any tools that could maim him if he loses focus on them for a single second, and he sets his hands on them and glances up at the camera, forcing a smile that he hopes will draw attention from the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.  
  
"You ready?" Morgan asks.  
  
The door squeaks open behind Morgan and they both look to see who enters. It's Rhett. Rhett with an intent expression, warm eyes, and a curious frown. Rhett whose gaze falls squarely on Chase and doesn't move an inch once it's there. Rhett who shuts the door and leans back against the wall and crosses his arms.  
  
Morgan's clearly waiting on some kind of acknowledgment, quiet as he is, but Chase knows better. Chase knows Rhett. He knows how Rhett likes to watch, to observe, to study from afar until he's satisfied. And he's pretty sure Rhett isn't going to interfere in the recording. Rhett just wants to watch Chase sweat it out.  
  
"Ready," Chase says, then clears his throat to shake away the roughness in his tone. He looks at the camera and smiles and waits for Morgan to start the shot.  
  
He feels the heat of Rhett's gaze through him all the way to the end, when Rhett slips out of the room right when Morgan cuts the camera.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
They didn't set a specific time to meet for the scene, but it's pretty common to wait for the official end of the work day, a la around 5pm, when everyone else is starting to trickle out of the office. It means that when Chase finishes his crafting for the day a good hour before that, he sits on his workbench and kicks his feet absently, eyes on the ground, trying not to look at his phone because he knows if he does he's probably going to watch time go _backwards_ or some shit from how excited he is.  
  
That's probably why when Stevie pops her head into the room with a light "You done yet?" Chase doesn't think anything of it, simply nods and smiles and then blinks a few times when Stevie immediately leaves without a response. Stevie moves through multitudes. She does questionable things and plays cards close to her chest, and Chase is more than familiar with all of that.  
  
When the door pops open less than five minutes later, he's less expecting it to be Link.  
  
Chase tries to sit a little taller, but his feet don't even touch the floor from this height, and by the time he remembers he can use his arms to push back Link's already clicked the door shut and started moving toward him.  
  
Link is lethal when he's in this mode. He's already long and lean, broad-shouldered and feather-haired, but the second he shifts into this headspace, his eyes smolder. His lips part slightly, ever so slightly, just enough to draw attention to their smooth plumpness. And his hips, God, those fucking hips, they sway in perfect counterpoint to his shoulders, so that he's moreso cutting through the air than walking through it, every step like a hot knife going through butter.  
  
"Hey," Chase finally manages to say.  
  
Link's only response is to push Chase's thighs apart and rake his fingers through Chase's hair as he moves to kiss him. He takes the kiss greedily, fingers tightening and pulling Chase's head where he wants it so he can deepen the kiss that much more, and Chase practically crumples with a whimper. It's so easy to give into Link. It's so easy to let Link take what he wants, because Link knows, he knows them all so fucking well, knows exactly what they want taken, knows exactly how to wrench it out of them so that they're left trembling and aching for more.  
  
Link pulls Chase away from the kiss, sharp pain ripping through his scalp, and as Chase gasps for air with his eyelashes fluttering Link presses his hot mouth against Chase's ear. "I'm tired of waiting," he drawls, light and sing-songy, and Chase almost comes in his pants.  
  
"What do you want?" Chase slurs, reaching out so he can cup Link through his pants, feel how hard he is. God, these fucking tight pants, they don't hide a fucking thing, and Chase practically drools as he feels how Link fits against his palm.  
  
Link doesn't reply verbally. He pops the button on Chase's jeans and plunges his hand down the back of them, under Chase's briefs, until Chase can feel Link's cool fingers ease between his cheeks and run over the base of the plug. "Wanna be inside that tight little ass of yours," Link murmurs. "Why're you making me wait, boy?"  
  
Chase doesn't think. All he can feel, see, and smell is Link, and he immediately starts wriggling out of his jeans. "Sorry," he murmurs, "so sorry, sir, just..."  
  
"Hold up, now," Link drawls. "Am I the only one you want? You change your mind?"  
  
There's nothing greater than Link, nothing bigger, and it takes Chase a long moment to work through that fact, to realize that he's missing something, to remember Rhett's eyes hard on him only hours before. "Oh," Chase gasps. "Oh, is-" He cuts off when Link rubs his fingers around the base of the plug, makes Chase squirm, makes Chase feel this fucking monstrosity rub against his prostate again.  
  
"You know how much work me and Rhett got done today?" Link asks, breathy and light. "Guess."  
  
Thinking is really fucking hard right now. "All...of...it?"  
  
"Naw." Link sinks his teeth into Chase's earlobe and makes him arch. "Not even close. 'Cuz we was thinking about just how sweet it's gonna be to hear you beg to be filled."  
  
There's no words to verbalize the ache that Chase feels ripping through him, pressing at his skin, making every inch of him swell up with need and desire and _fuck._ "Please-"  
  
"Y'know what I wanna do with you next time?" Link asks. "Wanna see what you do when every bit of you's filled up. Two cocks in your ass. A cock in your mouth. A cock in each hand. I could have a line out the door just waiting to keep you full."  
  
Chase moans sharply and squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, how many people? Would they all wanna fuck Chase, all of Link's subs, every last one of them, cocks and strap-ons just waiting to be inside him? The ache intensifies all the more until Chase realizes he's been rolling his hips, that Link's words and the pressure of the denim against his cock have got him so, so- "I'm gonna, I'm-"  
  
"Shh." Link grabs Chase's hips and holds them still against the table. "Don't you dare."  
  
Chase whimpers. He buries his face in Link's neck and pants, shaking, trying to catch his breath. Thank fuck, thank fuck Link's got him, that he's got a hold on him and won't let him go, holy shit. "Oh my God," he whispers.  
  
"You okay?" Link asks. His voice is softer now, like a blanket on Chase's naked skin, soothing the ache away. "What's your color, Chase?"  
  
"I-I'm green," he stammers, "I'm fine, j-just was...Jesus, Link."  
  
"You want it that bad?" Link asks, teasing, wheedling. "You like the thought so much, you were ready to come?"  
  
He flushes all over. He would never dream of telling Link to shut up, but God if he isn't flustered.  
  
"Here," Link murmurs, peeling Chase's jeans down, "lemme see..."  
  
Oh fuck, his briefs, no, Jesus. Chase makes a soft embarrassed sound, but he doesn't fight Link's hands.  
  
There's a long moment of quiet before Link whistles, soft and low. "Goddamn." Link's hand is warm on the back of Chase's neck, and Chase lets Link pull him back. "Lookee here."  
  
God, his briefs are fucking soaked through with precum. Filthy. Absolutely filthy. And that's before Chase can even see how obscenely he's filling out these briefs, imagines he can practically see the bright red head of his cock through the fabric.  
  
"You been like this all day?"  
  
"Yes sir," Chase murmurs.  
  
"Fuck, you're so good," Link says effusively, voice warm as freshly baked bread.  
  
Chase closes his eyes and lets Link pet through his hair, letting the compliment sink into him and burst warmth through every one of his pores. "Thank you, sir," he whispers.  
  
"We're not done yet, c'mon," Link says with a feral grin. He coaxes Chase into a kiss, then gets Chase's jeans closed back up. "Been waiting for you all day. Think Rhett's about to wear a hole in the carpet from pacing."  
  
"He wants me?" Chase asks, voice as thin as a spiderweb.  
  
"Mmm." Link tugs Chase to his feet. "When he came back from seeing you today, he about begged me to do the scene over lunch. Said he couldn't take waiting."  
  
Chase sags against Link for a moment, head foggy, eyelashes fluttering. The mere idea of Rhett wanting him so badly barely computes. Rhett is Rhett, and Chase is a short, quiet little thing who'd rather not draw a lick of attention to himself. But Link doesn't lie about shit like this. And that means this is really happening.  
  
Link walks Chase to the napping room, an arm around his waist, and Chase tries not to look at the people they pass, the others still getting their work finished up for the day. Every single one of them is going to know what's happening, Jesus. He's as red as a beet before he even gets led into the room, filled with the bunk bed and Rhett, beautiful fucking Rhett who's indeed pacing at the base of it.  
  
Rhett comes to a halt when Link shuts the door behind him, flicks his eyes over Chase, then sucks in a sharp breath before he speaks. "I have the lube," Rhett says, plucking it from the top bed, "and, uh, a-and I didn't know if he'd want one of us, like, in a condom or anything, so-"  
  
"On your knees," Link says sharply.  
  
Rhett doesn't crash down like Chase does. Chase doesn't even think, just drops down, feels the room spin a little and the ache in his knees, while Rhett eases down carefully, probably mindful of his back, his legs, everything. He's got a lot farther to go, after all. "Sorry, sir," Rhett mumbles.  
  
"Calm down, baby," Link murmurs as he walks over to Rhett and pets both hands through his hair. Rhett's mouth is at the perfect level to mouth at Link's cock through his pants to let himself get distracted, but Rhett keeps his eyes on Chase for too long, almost has to have his eyes dragged up to Link's face. "Let me have control, huh?"  
  
"Yes sir." Rhett's eyelashes flutter and he leans into Link's hands.  
  
Link smiles so softly down at Rhett, so fondly, that Chase feels heat spread across his skin. He gets this way all the time with them. The casual way they're tactile, the way their eyes linger when they're filming, their inside jokes that slip out around everyone else over and over again, it all speaks to just how deeply they care about each other, and it never fails to make Chase feel happy and warm. Sometimes he wonders why they do this. Link's got a hard, fast rule about being impartial with his subs, and that means never blurring the lines between sub and partner.  
  
Except with Rhett. They both can swear up and down all they want that they're just each other's dom or sub, but Chase knows better. It'll come to a head one day. Always does.  
  
Maybe that's why he wants this taste of both of them now, feeling the nervous tingle in his heart toward Rhett paired with the aching draw in his skin toward Link. Who knows how much longer he'll have this opportunity?  
  
Link settles on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, flicking his eyes up to Chase with a grin. "C'mere, Chase, wasn't a command for you to get on your knees."  
  
Chase flushes. "Better safe than sorry, sir," he says as he gets to his feet and walks toward him. The change in position was enough to make it feel like the angle of his plug shifted, and he's back in the midst of hell, feeling it prod against his prostate maliciously.  
  
Link holds out a hand and takes Chase's, pulling Chase to straddle him. Chase hesitantly laces his arms around Link's neck and lets out a shaky breath when Link's smile softens. "You've been real patient for us," Link murmurs. He cups Chase's cheek and tilts his head just so. "You 'bout ready to get your reward?"  
  
He's been aching for it for over twenty-four hours now. He nods quickly, eyes darting all over Link's face, taking him in. "Yes sir."  
  
"Good." Link flicks his eyes down to Chase's mouth as he thumbs over his lower lip, and Chase obediently opens when Link pushes between his lips. And then the weight of Link's thumb is pressing hypnotically down on Chase's tongue, and Chase whimpers just once before his mind goes hazy and his eyes roll back a little. "C'mere, Rhett," Link murmurs, "come see our boy."  
  
_Their_ boy. Fuck. Chase can't even imagine moving right now, not when Link has an arm around his waist and is prodding so rudely at his tongue, and on one hand he's thankful for that - he doesn't even have to think about consciously being good for Link - and on the other he's disappointed - he doesn't get to see Rhett approach him. But Rhett's hands touch his waist, broad and warm, and Chase feels a full body shiver wrack over him from head to toe.  
  
"You can touch him wherever you want," Link says. Link eases two fingers into Chase's mouth to replace his thumb, to press down all the harder, all the further back, and Chase whimpers around the intrusion. His eyes slide shut, and that's before Rhett starts moving his hands, brushing up Chase's thin hoodie, running over Chase's hard nipples, easing over Chase's collarbone and throat. "No choking," Link says softly, and Rhett's fingers go featherlight around Chase's neck. "Chase only wants to be choked by your cock."  
  
Rhett makes a low sound that's more like a growl than anything else and it scrapes down Chase's spine, visceral and rough. They're not gonna do that, right? Facefuck Chase? They're gonna both fuck him at the same time, that's why Chase is already partially stretched, they're gonna want to be as hard as possible for that, and that means that...God, will they wanna do this again sometime? So that Rhett can facefuck Chase while Link holds Chase's head right where he wants it?  
  
Chase doesn't mean to start sucking at Link's fingers, but they're here and he needs them, needs _something,_ and Link hums softly and presses a kiss to Chase's forehead, so gentle that Chase almost thinks he made it up.  
  
"You wanna get his clothes off?" Link drawls breathlessly.  
  
"Yeah," Rhett replies, so deep, so rich.  
  
"Go on, then, sweetheart."  
  
Rhett starts easing Chase's hoodie off and Link pulls his fingers out of Chase's mouth, and Chase immediately whines, chasing them, only stopping when Link squeezes his jaw and holds him firm. "Please," Chase whispers without even knowing what he's asking for, feeling Link let go, feeling the hoodie slide over his head, and then his shirt. The cool air hits his flushed skin and he opens his eyes with a little gasp, looking at Link as mournfully as he can.  
  
"What is it, boy?" Link asks with a laugh. "What do you want?"  
  
Chase's mouth feels full of cotton, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he remembers to swallow, to try and get everything wet again. "Want you," he attempts, because maybe that's the right answer to get something in his mouth again.  
  
"You're gonna have me when I'm ready for you to," Link says. He pulls Chase in for a kiss and pinches his nipple cruelly as he does. Rhett's hands ease down Chase's spine, and Chase arches for them, feels how Rhett's fingers trace the curve of his skin, the fullness of his love handles. It's fucking intoxicating.  
  
Chase gets so casually manhandled by the both of them, Link's fingers squeezing and menacing Chase's nipples, Rhett's hands easing under the waistband of his pants to cup his ass, and Chase feels every muscle in his body start to go limp. How the hell is he supposed to stand up to this assault? He droops backward and lands against Rhett's body, his head pillowed by Rhett's thigh, and Chase pulls away from the kiss just enough to turn his head, to feel the thickness of Rhett's cock against his cheek.  
  
Well, fuck that, why the fuck is he just sitting here?  
  
Chase whimpers as he reaches for Rhett's cock, eyes opening and flicking over the shape of it in Rhett's jeans, and Link is kind enough to let him explore the shape of it. The first groan that Chase draws out of Rhett is enough to make Chase bite his bottom lip, a flush of curiosity in his chest. What does Rhett like? What does he want from Chase? Would he use Chase like Chase wants him to?  
  
"Can I?" Chase slurs.  
  
"What?" Rhett asks.  
  
"Yeah," Link interrupts, "go on, boy," and Chase shapes his mouth over the heated bulge in Rhett's jeans.  
  
"Fuck," Rhett chokes. He presses a hand into the top bunk bed and leans into it, inhaling shakily, his other hand sprawling through Chase's hair. Fuck, fuck, Chase can't think, can't do anything but twist around so he can grab Rhett's hip and hold him steady so Chase can press his tongue against the rough denim, can give him exactly what he deserves.  
  
Chase is content like this, humming, feeling how hot Rhett gets under his mouth, but his ears pick up on Link's voice. "Told you to get his clothes off," Link teases. "You gonna disobey me, Rhett?"  
  
"Sir," Rhett says pleadingly.  
  
"I'm waiting."  
  
Rhett grunts, fingers squeezing Chase's hair, hard and painful, before they ease off. Chase doesn't see any reason to stop nibbling around the curve of Rhett's shaft with his lips, not when Rhett is so clearly capable of leaning down to get his fingers on Chase's button. They fumble, thumbs tickling the hair trailing down under Chase's bellybutton, but soon the button pops and the zipper eases down and Chase finally pulls his mouth away from Rhett's dick to arch his back helpfully.  
  
Rhett pulls Chase's jeans and briefs down together, and Chase bites his bottom lip at the low growl behind him once his ass is free. The fabric's only just pooled on the floor around Link's feet when Rhett is digging his fingers into Chase's ass and spreading his cheeks. "Fuck, look at him," Rhett murmurs.  
  
"You know what he did?" Link asks lightly, and Chase flicks his eyes to Link's, staring at him. "He wanted you so bad, he was ready to seduce me just to get his hands on you."  
  
Rhett goes quiet and Chase's eyes widen.  
  
"My good boy who I've barely ever had to punish," Link goes on with a drawl. "He was ready to suck my brains out through my dick and _then_ ask for you to fuck him when I was all soft and shit. Ready to take advantage of me rather than risk I tell him no."  
  
Chase starts to shake all over, eyes flicking down to Link's neck, heart pounding so frantically in his chest that he thinks he might pass out. The haze is gone. He's left with the sinking embarrassment in his gut, the realization that the both of them might laugh at Chase for how eager he'd been, the knowledge that he hadn't asked for Link to keep this quiet. He wouldn't have known just how prepared Chase was to act like he barely wanted Rhett just so that Rhett wouldn't have been weirded out by Chase's desire.  
  
"Whaddya think of that, Rhett?" Link asks.  
  
Silence. Chase digs his fingers into Link's shoulders to keep himself steady, breathing harder than he means to, mouth already shaping around an apology that'll just-  
  
Chase's back hits the bed when Rhett pushes him down by the shoulder, eyes wild, pressing his body against Chase's just before he kisses him like a man possessed, and Chase squeaks, limbs flailing just for a moment before he gets fistfuls of Rhett's shirt in his grasp. His eyes flick to Link in panic, concern that one of them'll be in trouble, but Link just lolls over onto his side, supporting his head with his hand, and that's all Chase needs before he squeezes his eyes shut and kisses Rhett back as good as he's got.  
  
The roughness of Rhett's clothes on Chase's naked skin is enough to take Chase's breath away, not even mentioning the taste of Rhett's mouth, the feel of Rhett's vibrating hum, or anything else. It's so fucking much, getting something he's wanted for so long, something he never thought he'd get to have, and just under the steady hum of his brain, he can't help but let repeated thoughts of gratitude slip through, like Link can pick them up through telepathy or something.  
  
"Touch him," Link murmurs.  
  
Rhett breaks the kiss, panting, eyelids drooping as he stares down at Chase. Chase feels blotchy with heat, eyes a little wet, breathing so hard that he can't suck in the swell of his stomach to hide it from Rhett's eyes, but the way Rhett's eyes rake over Chase send a thrill through him anyway. "Where, sir?" Rhett asks.  
  
"See his pretty cock?"  
  
Rhett hums, rough around the edges.  
  
"C'mon," Link drawls. "Tell me how it feels."  
  
Rhett trails his fingers up the curve of Chase's shaft and Chase gasps, then covers his mouth to try and hide his noises.  
  
"Nah," Link murmurs. He grabs Chase's wrist and pulls it down to the mattress, where Link can pin it. "Don't you be hiding those pretty noises from me. You like his cock, Rhett?"  
  
"Yes sir," Rhett says softly. "It's real thick in my hand. Real red. Real slick."  
  
"All that's for you, sweetheart," Link says with a toothy smirk. "See how much he wants you?"  
  
Rhett's brow furrows like he's trying to solve a mystery and Chase studies every unspoken thought on Rhett's face. Fuck, no wonder Link was so forthcoming about Chase's almost desperate desire for Rhett. Rhett looks like he's never really believed he was wanted his whole life.  
  
Chase reaches up tentatively with his free hand and Rhett jolts his eyes up, locks them with Chase's, and flinches almost imperceptibly when Chase runs his fingers over the roughness of Rhett's beard. "You're gorgeous," Chase whispers in a sense of wonder.  
  
Rhett leans into his touch, then, eyes falling shut as his lips part. For a moment everything is sweet and cherry coated, almost innocent, and Chase draws Rhett down for another soft kiss so he can feel how Rhett exhales shakily. And then Link is popping open the container of lube.  
  
"You're gonna fuck him first," Link says. He reaches between Rhett's legs to grab the plug, to ease it slowly out of Chase so Chase can feel the teasing drag of it through him, so slowly that Chase clenches the muscles in his stomach with a whine so he doesn't squirm. "Want you to get him all nice and stretched out for me."  
  
"Yes sir," Rhett whispers. He tucks his forehead into Chase's neck and lays a line of kisses there, slick and hot.  
  
"You did so fucking good for me, boy," Link murmurs with a grin. He tosses the plug on the bed and sinks three slick fingers inside of Chase, stretching just enough to make Chase gasp. "We're gonna take such good care of you."  
  
"Please," Chase whimpers. "Just, j-just fuck me, just-"  
  
"I got you." Link twists his wrist so he can press his fingers against Chase's prostate, easy as anything, and Chase bucks his hips so hard that he almost dislodges Rhett. Link pumps his fingers in and out of Chase, hard and fast, and Chase clings to Rhett with breathy, desperate sounds. "Get your clothes off, Rhett."  
  
It's harder than it probably should be for Rhett to pull out of Chase's embrace, especially with Chase scrabbling his short nails over Rhett's shirt to try and get him close, but Rhett's strong. He yanks out of Chase's grasp so he can pull the shirt over his head, and Chase greedily eats up Rhett's body with his eyes. "Sir," Chase murmurs, slurring, then clears his throat and forces himself to focus as Rhett opens his belt. "Would you...would you like it if I touched him?"  
  
Link barks a laugh that makes Chase jump, then teases his pinkie at Chase's rim, like he's, like he's going to ease his whole hand inside of Chase, fuck, _fuck._ "Lemme make you a deal, boy," Link drawls. "You can touch me and Rhett all you want and you don't have to ask permission or nothing."  
  
"But?" Chase asks. He spreads his legs a little wider so Rhett can step between them again after he eases his pants down.  
  
"But you gotta let me bind your wrists when we fuck you."  
  
The sweat on Chase's body feels like it goes cool when the goosebumps break out across his skin. "Yes sir."  
  
"All right," Link says with a grin. "I'll be right back. Y'all get to it. Wanna see you balls deep in him when I get back, sweetheart."  
  
As Link eases his fingers out of Chase, Rhett climbs onto the bed. Chase didn't realize how tiny this thing was, just a little twin bed with a roof above it, but maybe that's okay, because it means that Rhett has to get all the closer to Chase as he starts wiggling out of his boxer briefs. The door opens slightly as Link slips out and he leaves it cracked enough that Chase feels nerves explode in his belly. There's still people in the office. They'll hear. They'll know.  
  
"You with me?" Rhett asks as he rolls onto his side next to Chase.  
  
Chase inhales shakily and looks at him. Rhett's not his dom. Rhett's just another sub. He knows how scenes go. Chase doesn't have to impress him. "I-I don't want anyone to hear," Chase whispers.  
  
"Okay," Rhett says, nodding. "That's okay." Rhett smears some lube onto his cock, drawing Chase's eyes - goddamn, that's, okay, Rhett's thick as fuck, that's absolutely unfair - and pumps his hand a few times to get as hard as he can. "We can be real quiet, right?"  
  
Chase wrinkles his brow. His heart flutters. "He wanted you to be fucking me when he gets back," he says. "The, uh, the mattress, it'll, people will hear-"  
  
"Didn't say I gotta be fucking you," Rhett murmurs with a slow grin. "Just that I gotta be balls deep."  
  
Chase stares at Rhett, eyes wide, lips parted.  
  
"C'mere." Rhett rests his hand on Chase's hip and coaxes him in close. "Don't be shy."  
  
Chase breathes a little laugh, cheeks flushed. "That's impossible."  
  
"Why?" Rhett quirks a brow.  
  
There's a dozen reasons why Chase asked for this scene, but confessing his crush on Rhett isn't one of them. He licks his lips, then tugs Rhett on top of him as quietly as he can. "Have you seen yourself?" is what he settles for.  
  
Rhett hums softly as he presses his huge palm against Chase's thigh, presses so that Chase's legs will open even further for him. "Look who's talking, honey."  
  
Chase whimpers and tucks his head into Rhett's neck. So much for getting bored of his crush with one quick session. Every cell in his skin is tingling.  
  
"You ready?" Rhett whispers against his ear.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay." There's the brush of Rhett's cock against Chase's hole, just quick enough of a warning for Chase to relax his muscles, and then Rhett's pushing inside of him. "Shit," Rhett whispers, then lets out a long, shaky breath as he presses deeper, deeper, until his hipbones are flush with Chase's ass.  
  
Chase makes a quiet sound as he wraps his arms and legs around Rhett, shivering, shaking. He's needed this. Fuck, he's been ready for this all day. There's no pain, no hesitation, just Rhett sliding sleekly inside of him, and. And stopping. And somehow that's even more intimate, feeling Rhett settle against him, feeling Rhett trying to catch his breath.  
  
Chase knows the feeling. His breath's been fucking stolen. Somebody call the police.  
  
"You okay?" Rhett asks.  
  
Chase feels how Rhett tries to pull back to see his face, but Chase tightens his limbs around him, keeps him pressed so close that Chase can barely breathe. "You feel really good inside of me," Chase murmurs.  
  
Rhett lets out such a soft grunt, and the fact that he's trying to stay quiet for Chase, that he's trying to spare Chase from embarrassment, it warms something inside of him. "You like how my cock feels?"  
  
"Mm-" Chase clenches around Rhett just to feel Rhett press in closer to him, crushing him. "Feels so good, Rhett," he whispers. "Want more."  
  
"Yeah?" Rhett reaches for the bottle of lube, gets a little more on his hand, then reaches between them, and Chase has to dig his teeth into Rhett's neck to keep from moaning when he feels Rhett rubbing a slick finger around where they're joined, dragging tingles out of him. "You ready for a finger?"  
  
Chase feels so stretched out already thanks to that goddamn plug that he doubts anything could stretch him more at this point, but he nods. "Please."  
  
There's some gentle shifting as Rhett goes for the best angle, adjusts himself quietly, and then...then Chase realizes he was wrong about the stretch. Because it's there. It's definitely there. And Chase feels like he's going to light on fire.  
  
"Oh my God," Chase gasps, quiet and high-pitched, his thighs aching as he opens his legs and spreads them as far as he can. "Oh, oh-"  
  
"That good?" Rhett asks, voice a rough growl against Chase's ear.  
  
"Yeah," Chase whispers, "fuck yeah, ple- more-"  
  
"I got you, Chase." Rhett leaves a kiss on the shell of Chase's ear as he presses his finger inside of him, achingly slow. Chase's heart beats so fast that he swears he can feel how his whole body is throbbing around Rhett's cock, Rhett's finger, and Rhett makes a soft sound that makes Chase want to bear down on him, that only makes Chase frustrated when he remembers he's taken all of Rhett inside of him already.  
  
"H-how," Chase tries to say, swallows, then tries again. "How does that feel?"  
  
"On my cock?" Rhett doesn't sound like himself. He sounds like some character, like if Rhett was impersonating a werewolf or something on the show, all roughness, all growls, leaving his voice raw for everybody to hear in the morning.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Fucking incredible." Rhett gasps, then lets out a hot breath against Chase's ear. "You're so fucking tight, goddamn."  
  
The door shuts, not at all quiet, and Chase looks over and meets Link's pleased gaze. "Good boys," Link says as he approaches, a soft scarf fluttering through the air behind him. "Look at this. Here, lemme see."  
  
Chase forces himself to loosen his grip on Rhett so Rhett can sit up a little, just enough for Link to see how deep inside of Chase he is, where his finger's gone too.  
  
Link makes a punched out moan, then lays the thin scarf on the bed above Chase's head. "He feel ready for me, Rhett?"  
  
"Not yet," Rhett says. He's panting as he looks down at Chase, still being so careful as he pumps his finger inside of him. "Maybe another finger."  
  
"Your fault," Link says fondly as he presses a kiss to the back of Rhett's neck before he starts on the buttons of his own shirt. "If your cock wasn't so goddamn thick."  
  
"Sorry," Rhett says dryly, "I'll try to make it a little smaller next time."  
  
Rhett's head snaps back when Link gets his hand around his neck and pulls him up another inch or two. "Funny," Link drawls back before he kisses Rhett, hard and possessive. "Roll over."  
  
The world rotates around Chase and he feels a little dizzy once he's straddling Rhett again. Link presses against Chase from behind, his chest pressing against his back, his shirt open and tickling Chase's sides with its tails, and Chase tries not to shake as Link kisses over his neck and Rhett slowly, ever so slowly eases a second finger inside of him. Not easy. Not fucking easy. Especially when Rhett is shifting to graze his fingers over Chase's goddamn poor prostate.  
  
"Fuck," Chase whines, long and pathetic, and Link laughs as he slithers out of his pants. "Please-"  
  
"I know, boy," Link murmurs, and Chase reaches behind him to squeeze Link's thigh, plants his other hand in the middle of Rhett's chest to support himself, because otherwise he's gonna topple over like a tree. "Little longer, okay? Gotta make sure we don't hurt you."  
  
Chase drops his head back against Link's chest. He's gasping now, feeling Link's cock flush against the small of his back, feeling how Link rubs his tummy as soothingly as he can. God, he wants, he _wants,_ feels like he's gonna shake apart before they even move inside of him together. "W-when can I come?" Chase asks, then quickly amends it with "When you're inside me, not, not now, I just-"  
  
"Whenever you want," Link murmurs with a grin. "Just as long as you know we're gonna keep fucking you 'til we're satisfied."  
  
Overstimulation, oh great, fantastic. They haven't played with that a lot, but Chase knows it's a particularly favorite game of Link's, and though Chase isn't a fan of pain, necessarily, he'll fight through it for Link. Link'll take care of him. He knows it.  
  
"Think he's ready," Rhett murmurs.  
  
"Good." Link reaches over Rhett to grab the scarf, leaning to give him a kiss as he does so, then sits tall again. "Tell me if you need to adjust," Link says as he pulls Chase's wrists behind his back and lets the whisper soft material tickle over his skin. "Yellow if you want your arms free, okay?"  
  
"Yes sir," Chase forces himself to say, because as nice as it would be to hold his tongue and focus on the feel of Rhett twitching inside of him, desperate and eager to fuck up into him, this show's not starting until Link's satisfied that everything's laid out just right.  
  
"Won't let you fall," Link promises. "Got you good and safe."  
  
"You always do, sir," Chase says.  
  
Link hums and twists his neck to get Chase's attention so he can kiss him as he tugs the scarf taut. "You're both so gorgeous," Link drawls. "My good boys."  
  
Chase catches Rhett's eye and stares at him, sees the flush all over his face that disappears under his beard, sees how Rhett's hair is almost crushed flat, how he doesn't look the least bit self-conscious as long as he's got his eyes on Chase. God, they're fucking good together.  
  
"Too tight?"  
  
"No sir," Chase murmurs. He sways a little when Link finishes tying the knot, but Link keeps him upright with his fingers around the scarf, pulls him back so Chase is flush against him. He's still wearing his shirt, buttons open, like he's too eager to get to the main event to bother, and Chase feels the slickness of precum drip down his shaft with a shiver.  
  
"You ready, Rhett?"  
  
"Yeah, yes sir."  
  
"All right."  
  
It's like waiting for the curtains to rise on his favorite musical, the shivery sense of anticipation, sitting quiet and rapt and staring at the stage while people murmur around him. There's the drag of Link's cock over the small of his back, leaving a trail of precum on his skin. There's Rhett's fingers stretching him unbelievably further. There's Link easing one arm around Chase's waist to hold him still and using the other hand to guide his cock until it's dragging along Rhett's skin, teasing over his ass, his balls, stopping when it's meeting the base of Rhett's cock and Rhett's fingers.  
  
And then Link slowly starts pushing inside of Chase, replacing Rhett's fingers, and it's like the overture begins.  
  
"Oh my God," Chase whispers. His thighs ache and shake as he tries to sit upright for Link, tries not to move, tries to, to just, _fuck_ , the stretch, i-it's too much for him, it's so-  
  
"Easy," Link whispers. "Breathe for me, Chase."  
  
Chase gasps for air, feels the darkness he didn't realize was creeping in around the edges of his vision recede. He squeezes and unsqueezes his fingers, searching for purchase, anything, as Link touches his mouth to the top of Chase's head, breath feathering his hair. He's breathing erratically against Chase, like he can barely hold himself together, like the aching stretch that Chase is feeling is the sweetest pressure Link's ever had.  
  
"Look at Rhett," Link quietly commands.  
  
Chase feels like the world is swimming, but he does, he locks eyes with him, and the way that Rhett is staring at him, knit brow and parted lips and almost furious eyes, is enough to drag tongues of flame up Chase's spine. Rhett looks like he never thought he'd see this day, like he'll never see anything better again, and Chase can't stop himself from gasping desperately for air until there's the tickle of endorphins all through him from hyperventilating.  
  
"Easy," Link whispers again, barely even audible, and Chase squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip until it feels like it's going to bleed. And then Link stops pushing.  
  
Chase is hovering. He's at the edge of a cliff, the wind biting at him, nothing but hazy whispers in his ear and the trill of static on his mind.  
  
"Color?" Link asks. "Both of you."  
  
"Green," Rhett says immediately.  
  
Chase doesn't respond. If he breathes, he's going to come, he knows it, and he's not ready, he's _not._  
  
"Chase?" Link prompts.  
  
Chase won't let his air out. He focuses hard, so hard, slowly pulls himself back from the edge of the cliff an inch at a time.  
  
"Chase, color," Link says firmly, already starting to pull out of him, and that is absolutely fucking not happening.  
  
"Green," Chase squeaks. "Green, I'm, I-I'm close, don't-"  
  
"Okay." Link freezes again. "Don't you make me wait that long for a color again, do you understand me?"  
  
If anything, the displeasure in Link's tone makes Chase pull back where he needs to be, until he can get the reins over his own cock. He gasps for air again, makes himself breathe as evenly as he can. "I'm sorry, sir," he whimpers. "I'm green, just, I, your, I almost came, Jesus."  
  
Rhett makes a wounded noise under him, fingers digging into his hips, and Link chuckles breathily behind him. "Just from our cocks filling you up?"  
  
"Yeah," Chase barely manages. He rocks back against Link and lets Link hold him still for a few moments so he can relax his muscles. "Okay. Okay."  
  
"That's my good boy," Link practically purrs. "Stay good and relaxed for me, okay? Lean into me. Me or Rhett, whichever."  
  
There's nothing Chase wants more than to touch Rhett's skin, but when he flexes his fingers he whines. No, that's, it's okay, he's, he doesn't have to touch him. He might even get to touch him another time, if he's good. And Chase is always good. He relaxes back completely against Link and trusts Link to support him.  
  
"You ready for us to move?" Link asks.  
  
Chase nods. His eyelashes are already fluttering. He can barely keep his eyes open from the ache and stretch alone.  
  
"Okay." For the first time Chase can hear the soft strain in Link's voice, how it sounds like he's barely holding himself together, and Chase clenches around them both just to hear the rough moan that Link makes just before he bites at Chase's shoulder. "Here we go."  
  
The stretch is nothing compared to when Link begins to pull out of him.  
  
It's slow, so fucking slow, Link taking his time and making sure Chase can take him like this, him and Rhett both, and Chase can't stop the noises that bubble up out of him - moans, gasps, sighs, cries, one right after another. Rhett's fingers press even harder into his skin, to the point of pain, but it's, it's grounding, somehow, and Chase has never been masochistic, but fuck, he thinks he, he might understand now, just...  
  
Chase focuses so hard on Rhett's hands, how his thumbs are making small circles on his skin. He focuses on the drag of Link's cock inside of him. And slowly, ever so slowly, Link starts to pick up the pace as he fucks into him.  
  
"Oh my God," Chase breathes.  
  
"Yeah," Link whispers back. Link lays a line of kisses on his shoulder before he groans softly, weak and high-pitched. "Rhett, c'mon, sweetheart, move with me."  
  
"That okay, Chase?" Rhett asks. He sounds wrecked. All because of Chase's body and Link's cock. Fuck.  
  
"Please," Chase says, "just, just fuck me, I'm..."  
  
It takes a few seconds of Link and Rhett working their hips before they hit a sweet spot of a rhythm, before they groan in tandem, and Rhett arches beneath them with a red flush skittering down his neck, over his chest. Chase tries to memorize it as best as he can. He's not gonna be present much longer. He knows it. There's a mindless drag of one of their cocks over his prostate, he can't even tell which, just knows that he's not gonna last long.  
  
"C-can Rhett-" Chase cuts off with a weak sound when Link bucks into him particularly hard. "Fuck-"  
  
"Can Rhett what, boy?"  
  
Chase gasps for understanding, for focus, and tries again. "Can he touch me?"  
  
"Want him to touch your pretty cock?" Link asks, a whisper of air on his tone.  
  
"Yes sir, oh _God,_ yes."  
  
"Please," Rhett growls beneath them.  
  
"Yeah," Link says. "Want you to make our boy come, Rhett. Make his toes curl."  
  
Rhett looks positively hungry when he gets his hand around Chase's cock again, pumping him at a desperate rhythm, a perfect counterpoint to their hips, and Chase squeezes his eyes shut. "God, I can't," he whispers. "I-I'm so-"  
  
"Want you to come for us," Link murmurs against his ear, thick and rough. "Come for us and then let us use you, huh?"  
  
"Oh, _oh-_ " God, they're gonna fucking use him like a toy, just fuck into him until they're satisfied, until they're coming inside him together, _fuck._ Doesn't even matter that Chase has never played much with overstimulation, not if it means he gets to be a little fucktoy for them, just- "Oh God, I'm-" He chokes on his last word and arches back against Link, crying out as he spills into Rhett's hand, all over Rhett's chest, overheated and tingling and feeling like he's gonna fall apart.  
  
But he won't. Not with Link here to hold him. Not with Rhett here to help put him back together.  
  
Chase comes down from his orgasms fast. Always has. But it's longer this time, hazy, stretched out, and it takes him a long moment to realize that it's because Rhett hasn't stopped touching his cock. Chase whimpers as Link fucks into him all the harder, as Link growls "Go on, Rhett, c'mon," and Rhett so eagerly obeys.  
  
God, it's, holy shit, it's too much, Rhett's huge hand slick with Chase's own cum, practically stripping Chase's cock, and the tingles start to turn into needles pressing into Chase's skin. He tries to rock away with a cry but that just plasters him against Link, and Link doesn't let up, keeps panting against Chase's temple and rocking into him so hard that Chase feels unbalanced.  
  
"I-I can't, I can't," Chase stammers, feeling the prick of tears at his eyes, and Link growls and nips at his ear. "Link!"  
  
"Tell me your color," Link demands.  
  
Oh God, he's being punished, he's fucking being punished. Chase squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can and feels the tears break free, pouring down his cheeks. He can take this. God, he's fucking strong, he's so good, he's everything - Link wouldn't want him and neither would Rhett if he wasn't - and that means he can fucking take a little edge of pain and pleasure together. "Green," he whines.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
Rhett makes a rough sound under him, fucking up into him as hard and as fast as Link, and Chase clings to every sensation he feels, focuses on the drag of their cocks, the press of Rhett's hand, the tickle of Link's shirt, until the pain and pleasure all starts to bleed away, until Chase is floating, floating, floating-  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
Chase can feel with every fiber of his being when Rhett comes inside of him, when he bucks up into him erratically, his hand finally falling away from Chase's cock. Chase gasps for breath that he didn't realize he was holding out for, relaxes his muscles, feels the crash of endorphins all through him with a whimper.  
  
Link grunts behind Chase and eases him down slowly to Rhett's chest, where Chase can feel the filthiness of his own cum between them, but Chase eagerly kisses Rhett as Link fucks into him from behind, his body pressing into Chase, grounding him. And when Link comes he makes such a soft, melodic cry, buried into the back of Chase's neck.  
  
It's incandescent. Chase barely feels like himself, he's so fucked out and wrecked. He feels something soar inside of him when Rhett draws him in for little chaste kisses, their beards scratching against each other, and then Link is petting through Chase's hair and making him hum happily.  
  
"My beautiful boys," Link says huskily, nuzzling into Chase's cheek before he kisses it. "So good. So filthy."  
  
Chase makes a protesting sound. It's absolutely not his fault he's covered in cum.  
  
There's a tickle on Chase's wrists as Link pulls the scarf away, and Chase flexes his fingers before Link starts rubbing at his skin to make sure the blood is flowing well. His fingers tingle, and he wiggles them just to hear Link laugh quietly behind him.  
  
Link pulls out of Chase first and Chase reaches for him immediately, but Link guides Chase's hands to Rhett's face. "Take care of each other. Be right back."  
  
Link disappears after he tugs on his pants, the door softly shut behind him, and Rhett nuzzles into Chase with a shaky sigh. "Jesus," Rhett murmurs. His voice is ruined. He won't sound the same for a few days, and Chase is prouder of that than he should be.  
  
"Yeah," Chase murmurs. He meets Rhett's eyes and feels his chest flutter. Fuck.  
  
There's a long moment of silence as they touch each other's faces, chests, hair, smooth and grounding touches that drag them slowly back to the present. It's perfect. Chase can't imagine ever having enough of this. And that's the fucking worst.  
  
"Question," Rhett murmurs, pausing to clear his throat. "Would you...like doing this again sometime? Like...like, a scene with you and me, or-"  
  
"Yes," Chase says immediately.  
  
Rhett grins at him, eyes languid, looking like he's two seconds away from falling asleep. "Yeah?"  
  
"Absolutely." Chase laughs. "You're...I mean, Rhett, you're so...God."  
  
"Careful," Rhett teases. "That'll go to my head real fast."  
  
"Well, good." Chase smiles and nuzzles at Rhett's warm neck.  
  
More scenes. He can do that. He can work through that. He can figure out whatever the hell's going on in his heart while that happens, and maybe he can come to a good place with it.  
  
When Link returns with a warm wet washcloth and a towel, Chase is nearly asleep. He lets Link and Rhett both gently handle him, rolling him onto his back so they can dab away the cum and dry him off. "Where's his bag?" Link asks.  
  
"St'v's desk," Chase slurs. A half asleep Chase is a needy Chase, so when Link goes to pull away Chase makes a sound and grabs his wrist. "Stay?" he asks.  
  
Rhett chuckles softly, and the fondness Chase recognizes on his tone makes him smile as he tugs Link down for cuddles. "I'll get it, Link, don't worry."  
  
"Thanks," Link says, then "hold on, I'm here, chill" as he laughs at Chase's eagerness. By the time they're wrapped up in each other's arms, Chase sighing in contentment, Link starts questioning him softly. "You good?"  
  
"Yeah," Chase murmurs. He nuzzles into Link's chest drowsily.  
  
"Have a good time?"  
  
"Best time," Chase replies.  
  
Link chuckles. "Good." He tousles Chase's hair. "Do you wanna play with Rhett more?"  
  
"Like...every day, please," Chase says, and he grins when Link laughs again. "I...yeah, I'd like that."  
  
"Good," Link says again. He sighs softly. "I think it's good for him. For you both, actually." He scratches Chase's scalp, and Chase leans into it like a cat. "You gonna make it through that crush of yours?"

Chase goes quiet. His chest aches for a moment, pinpricks in his palms. He's good. He's always good. So that's why he can be bad just once and ask "You gonna make it through yours?"  
  
Link goes just as quiet. For a moment, they just lay there together, parsing their thoughts, drawing strength from the other. And when Link opens his mouth and inhales, ready to speak, the door opens and brings in Rhett, Chase's bag in hand. "I come bearing pajamas," Rhett announces.  
  
"Good on ya," Link says with a grin. He breaks away from Chase to go take the bag from Rhett. "C'mon, this is the only chance we got to dress Chase up like we want."  
  
"Says who?" Rhett asks. "We're the ones who sign his paychecks. We can absolutely make a Dress Up Chase video."  
  
They both laugh together and Chase grins, letting himself be tugged to his feet, letting himself be handled. But as Link tugs the sleep shirt over Chase's head, their eyes meet, and Chase can see a brief flash of honesty and vulnerability.  
  
He's pretty sure they're both fucked.  



	4. Jen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen's been the outside one for a while in this whole thing Link has with his subs. She doesn't ever do anything without long, careful consideration. Well, maybe it's time for her to stop being on the outside looking in.
> 
> (TW for a first sexual experience with another person, first D/s experience, kink discussion, and porn watching)

Jen is in touch with herself. She really is. She keeps tabs on the limits of her body when she's exercising. She carefully parses through her thoughts when she's upset about something to figure out the deeper hurt. She understands her emotional responses enough that she's rarely surprised by her own reactions to things. She doesn't do things without long, careful consideration, from the big things like the first car that she bought with her own money to the small things like each piece of clothing she adds to her wardrobe.  
  
That's why she's here walking down the hall toward Rhett and Link's office years after she started working with them with her eyes focused, her frame relaxed, and her thoughts calm.  
  
Well. Mostly calm.  
  
Some of the doors around her are closed and she knows why. The hallway is a safe zone. What Link does with many of the other employees is well understood and discussed carefully upon hire, and each of their professional contracts dictates that the lobby, the hallways, the kitchen, and the break room are to be free of anything of what they call 'play,' but the other rooms? Those are up for grabs. Chase, for example, could be innocently drilling holes in a plank in the workroom or Chase could have his hands bound above his head while Link wields a flogger behind him. For those reasons, if a door is shut, anyone not currently involved in this arrangement has to carefully consider whether they are prepared to enter or not.  
  
Anyone such as Jen, for example.  
  
Jen has never looked down on anyone for entering that arrangement with Link. How could she? It involves over half the office staff at this point, if not more, and Jen makes a personal effort to get along with everyone if only because work is easier when she knows she can count on those around her. But the arrangement itself involves a lot, as far as she knows. She's been asked by Link to leave the room while Link is already rolling up his sleeves and pushing Rhett down to lean on the desk, while Eddie was still fumbling to turn off his camera, while everyone else sat in their chairs stockstill until Jen shut the door behind her. She's seen Chase with a pink ribbon around his neck that he flushed about and fumbled to get off the second that Jen pointed it out, as if he'd forgotten it was even there. She's watched Alex wince as he sat down next to her at lunch and had it waved off with a laugh when she asked about it. It's something that they all threw themselves into with reckless abandon, some of them within a week of hire, and they all seem to like it pretty well even if it does take up a huge chunk of their time.  
  
But Jen doesn't believe in reckless abandon. She doesn't lose control of herself, not ever. And sometimes she almost envies those that do.  
  
She pauses in front of Rhett and Link's office and adjusts her jacket, making sure the wrinkles are smoothed out, before she knocks.  
  
"Come in," Link calls.  
  
"It's Jen," Jen calls back, as she'd taken to doing after walking in on Link with his, with, uh, with. After she walked in on Link having sex with Lizzie.  
  
"Oh," Link says, followed by "uh." As she thought. "Just a moment."  
  
"Yep." She leans back against the wall next to the door, tapping her boots on the floor as she patiently waits. Morgan strolls by, chatting with Chase, and they both go quiet when they see her waiting. Morgan in particular grins and drops his eyes, though when he chuckles Chase elbows him and gives Jen an apologetic look that she smiles at. She knows that she's the odd one out here. That's fine. She'd rather be that way than jump in without consideration.  
  
It takes a few more seconds, maybe a full minute from when she knocked, but then the door opens and Mike abruptly bursts out of the room, shirt a little askew, beanie tipped to the side. He smells odd, but Jen's used to that at this point. Most people smell a little odd when they leave Link's office. Mike clears his throat, reaches for his beanie, adjusts it, and backs down the hallway. "Hey Jen," he says, voice more of a croak than anything else.  
  
"Sup," she says, giving a little chin pop, and Mike smiles hesitantly before he turns and starts walking double time down the hallway. Whatever he's getting away from, she can't even begin to imagine. She waits, continuing to stare at the wall.  
  
"You coming in or not?" Link asks.  
  
"I assume everything's decent?" Jen counters.  
  
"Absolutely, Jen, who do you think I am?"  
  
She refrains from commenting, instead rounding the corner and shutting the door behind her, leaning back into it. Link has a mirror out and tilted just so against his computer monitor so he can see himself as he fiddles with his hair. It's clearly far behind what he considers perfect at this point, and Jen tilts her head to the side, wondering not for the first time what Mike must've done to Link's hair to ruin it so utterly. Link looks fixated on himself, frowning, and Jen lets herself consider him for a bit as she waits for him to finish up.  
  
He's a brilliant man, in his own way. Not the brightest when it comes to book smarts, but then, that's not what Rhett and Link set out to be when they started this, was it? They have an unnerving way to put their finger on the pulse of the Internet at large, to feel out what they can present to the world to draw attention while also maintaining a pretty pristine reputation, and she admires that. She admires how easily Link takes to laughing, to playing around. She admires how well he keeps things under control, how he keeps everyone on a timely schedule, how he flexes his muscles doing so.  
  
Ah, right, there it is, the familiar little trill of tingles in her belly, the dusting of vibration right under her skin. She was wondering where that was.  
  
Link sits back in his chair with a huff and tips the mirror down so it's glass first on the desk, then spins to look at her as he tucks his arms behind his neck. "Well, it couldn't've been an emergency," he drawls with a little smile. "You've been standing there so patient."  
  
"I'm always patient," Jen says. She takes a deep breath and pushes away from the door.  
  
"I wouldn't say that," he teases, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Go ahead, sit down. You want something to drink or anything?"  
  
Jen considers the minifridge where Link and Rhett keep their weird special foods and drinks that nobody else likes. "No thanks," she says, because that's nicer than _oh God why would I ever._ She perches on the edge of the couch cushion and immediately feels the mistake that it is, feels the adrenaline pumping through her muscles. She needs to be up pacing, moving around, shadowboxing, getting her heart rate pumping, not waiting like a sitting duck. But she's here. And she wants to look calm and collected. So she won't move. "I wanted to talk to you about something."  
  
"Okay." Link sits back in his chair a little. "Shoot."  
  
"It's about the office arrangement," she begins, then, when Link wrinkles his brow, she follows up quickly. "The arrangement you have with them. With Rhett and Lizzie and Mike and-"  
  
"I know the arrangement you mean," Link says. He considers her closely, like he's trying to read her like a book, and Jen feels the way her heart skips a beat. She really doesn't feel like blushing, but she's pretty sure it's about to happen anyway. "Do we need to rediscuss it?"  
  
Holy heck, he knows, that's. That's disconcerting. She nods slowly. "We do."  
  
"Okay." Link immediately pushes away, letting his chair roll him over to his filing cabinet, and Jen blinks as Link opens a file and pulls it out. "Always figured this might happen," Link says mildly, apologetically, as he starts leafing through it, reaching for a pen with his other hand. "Kinda have some new things in mind anyway, so." He bites the pen and goes flipping further until he hums, pulls out a packet of paper, and lays it down on his desk to consider it. He fingers the pen, fidgeting it between his knuckles. "I can adjust your hours, if you want."  
  
"Excuse me?" Jen asks, wrinkling her brow.  
  
"I know, it's not the most desirable thing ever," Link says. "But I do most of my work with them in the last hour or two a day. If you're willing to come in an hour early, maybe shift your lunch hour a little, you'll have a lot less risk of overlap."  
  
"Link," Jen says, leaning forward, tenting her hands. "I'm not interested in changing my hours."  
  
"Okay," Link says. "Okay. Money? You're about due for a raise, aren't you?"  
  
"Excuse me?" Jen shakes her head. "Link, what do you think I'm trying to bring up right now?"  
  
"The arrangement," he repeats, looking at her. "Jen, you're the only one here who's not involved who's walked in on things. It's not surprising that you'd be uncomfortable with what you've seen, and I'd really hate to lose you, girl." He holds her eyes while Jen sits there, dumbstruck, then huffs and pulls out a notepad and offers it to her with his pen. "Here, just tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."  
  
First of all, that pen has been in his mouth, so she's not touching it. She reaches for the notepad just to nudge it to the side. And it's hard, but she holds Link's eyes when she opens her mouth again. "Link. I'm not trying to leave."  
  
Link knits his brow. He opens his mouth, closes it, then sits forward in his chair. He matches her posture, leaning in, elbows on his knees, watching her close enough that Jen definitely feels the first touch of color on her cheeks. "What're you saying, then? What do you wanna discuss?"  
  
Jen licks her lips. There goes the last of her gloss. She could care less. The lingering taste of strawberry is enough distraction for her to let the words out without overthinking them. "I'd like to discuss my place in the arrangement."  
  
Link lets out a sharp breath, his mouth falling open and staying there. He has a really nice mouth. Honestly, it's pretty unfair. But Jen is a strong woman who's put in a lot of hours with Crossfit and whatever the heck else, so she doesn't even look down, just. Just holds his eyes as Link parses through things before he finally speaks. "Are you saying you...you..."  
  
"I want in," she says firmly.  
  
"Oh." Link's eyebrows spring into his hairline as he sits back in the chair and lets out a breathy sort of laugh. "Oh, wow. Wow. That is. Oh."  
  
"That all you have to say?" she asks dryly. She can't figure out if Link is laughing _at_ her or...?  
  
"I'm just surprised, Jen, Jesus. Give a guy some warning." His hands fidget over the file on his desk for a moment before he looks down and tucks it back into place, then takes it to the cabinet. "Wow."  
  
"Is it really that surprising?"  
  
"Jen." Link puts her file up, then shakes his head with a grin, still looking down as he goes through another section. "Jen, you've been here almost longer than anybody, and you ain't once even looked at anything you walked in on for a second longer than you had to."  
  
"That's because it's rude, Link," Jen says patiently. "If you walk in on someone, you look away because you don't have permission to look at them."  
  
"That's right," Link says softly. He eyes her for a moment, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, before he pulls an intimidatingly thick packet out from the cabinet and shuts it. The metal clank of the cabinet closing makes her sit a little taller, makes her feel like she's in the principal's office at her school. It's weird. She tries to parse through it, to figure out what she thinks of it. Jen was a good student. She never got detention. She got all A's in all of her subjects. She had A.P. classes and did incredibly well in them. College was pretty easy for her. She can't remember ever getting in trouble.  
  
Maybe it's less trouble, she thinks, and more like she's being interviewed all over again. And with a different Link. That too.  
  
When Link drops back into his chair and crosses his legs at the knee, he's not the same man he was when Jen first walked in. There's something about his air, his posture, his expression, that looks a little more...what? She can't quite define it. Normally when she works beside Link or ends up in a video with him, it feels like sitting beside a friend, someone she can joke around with and tease. But right now that feels like the last thing he is.  
  
Now, she realizes, it feels like he's in charge. Like he's actually a boss.  
  
Well, that's weird.  
  
"When did you decide this?" Link asks.  
  
"That I wanted to be in the arrangement?" she clarifies.  
  
"That you wanted me to be your dom," Link says simply. "That you wanted to be my submissive."  
  
Okay, well. That's the first time she's had it spoken aloud. She swallows hard and tries to push the color out of her cheeks again. "Well," she says slowly. "I think it started when I saw how you interacted with Rhett and Stevie."  
  
"Yeah, but when?" he prompts.  
  
"When you first started things with both of them," she says slowly.  
  
"That long?" Link's eyes widen. "Really?"  
  
"I wanted to give it the consideration it deserved," Jen says, offended.  
  
"Wow," Link says, shaking his head with a laugh. "Okay, sorry. Go on."  
  
"Yeah." She looks down and picks at the bottom of her jacket, feeling the tingles thicken inside of her. "There just...there was something interesting there. I could tell how close you all were. I liked it. I sort of wanted it too. But I wanted to think about it, because I knew it was a serious thing, and then, uh. Then there just...never seemed to be a good time, I guess."  
  
"Why's that?" Link asks. He clicks his pen and Jen looks up quickly, but he doesn't seem to be taking notes. Just watching her.  
  
Jen shrugs. "There was always somebody new."  
  
"So they got to me first," Link says with a grin.  
  
"No," Jen says immediately, then squares her jaw. "Maybe."  
  
"Okay," Link says. His grin widens.  
  
"Anyway." She focuses on holding his gaze, on not looking away. This is just a discussion. This is just a regular friendly discussion like she's had with Link hundreds of times over the past few years. "Once things got settled with Mike and Morgan, I just...y'know, there hasn't been anybody new recently, so I decided to just...do it."  
  
Link considers her. His eyes feel like they flick over her face, like he's looking for something in particular, but she can't quite figure out what it is, so she just sits patiently and lets him look his fill before he clicks the pen shut and open a few more times. "Have you ever done anything like this?"  
  
"No," Jen says.  
  
"Nothing? Ever thought about it?"  
  
She shrugs. "I mean, sure, but doesn't everybody?" Link immediately gives her a doubtful look, so she presses on. "I just figure life's gotta get a little easier if you have somebody else calling all the shots, right?"  
  
"Well, sure," Link says, "but most people aren't gonna enter a relationship like that just because." He writes something on the thick stack of papers. "I mean, it's up to you if you think this is something you want, Jen. You're a grown woman. You know your own mind. But you've gotta ask yourself what you want out of it. It's not about me, it's about you."  
  
That makes logical sense. Link is already getting quite a bit out of his other...his...his _subs._ Jen wouldn't necessarily add anything new to his table, she's pretty sure, but she'd certainly get a lot out of it herself. She considers for a few seconds. "I think I might be less stressed," she finally says.  
  
"Why's that?" Link asks.  
  
"Because you'd be telling me what I need to do and when I need to do it."  
  
"I already tell you that," Link says, grinning at her. "I pay you to do that."  
  
"And when I do it, you just give me the next task, and when I fall behind, you just give it to somebody else."  
  
"Does that disappoint you?"  
  
"A little." Jen shrugs. "Look, maybe it's selfish, but a little extra reward sounds good sometimes."  
  
Link quirks a brow. "And what about a little extra punishment?" But his voice is different when he says it. It's a little deeper, a little breathier. It's what Jen's imagined Link must sound like in...in more intimate situations. Not that she's imagined that a lot, of course. That would be weird. And gross. No, it's just. Okay, whatever.  
  
"What would punishment look like?" she asks slowly.  
  
"That's up to you." Link holds up the packet and taps it. "This would be for you. It's got a list in it of things that you're comfortable with, that you might want to try, and that you don't ever want to do at all. You'd fill it out, we'd discuss it, and we'd go from there."  
  
She stares at it, frowning in thought. "When do I get to see it?"  
  
He shrugs. "Now, if you want." He holds it out and she takes it. Her name's written on the front, and there's a few blanks that she surveys. "If you wanna do this, I want you to take that home and think about it as long as you need to. Come up with a safeword. A safeword is a word you use when you need a scene to stop."  
  
"And a scene is-"  
  
"Sorry." Link laughs. "God, it's been a minute since I did this, I'm all out of order. Okay, so a scene is when you come to me with something in mind that you'd like to try. It could be anything. Spanking, anal play, something with a collar and a leash, anything at all." Even though Jen blushes she holds his eyes as he goes on. "We'd discuss it, figure out where you want the boundaries to be at, and then we'd go through it until you're satisfied or until for whatever reason the scene needs to stop. Like, maybe we're interrupted-"  
  
"Like with Mike today," she says with a little smile.  
  
"Yep." He grins back. "Or maybe there's an emergency, or maybe you're uncomfortable and need the scene to stop. It might just stop until you've caught your breath or it might stop for good. Either way, that's what you'd use your safeword for."  
  
Jen nods again. It all makes logical sense, and she's read enough on the Internet to feel satisfied when Link's information matches up with what she's read. She opens the packet and immediately pauses. Okay, so. There's. There's a lot of words here. They all have three boxes for checkmarks beside them, apparently for stuff she's interested in now, stuff she's curious about for the future, and stuff she never wants to do. And it's all very. Wow.  
  
Listen, Jen doesn't go looking at this kind of porn, okay, she just.  
  
"It's a lot to take in," Link says. "You can take as much time as you need, and if you change your mind, that's fine too."  
  
"No, no, it's just, uh." Jen pushes her hair behind her ears. "It's just a lot."  
  
"I understand." He reaches out and pats her arm, quick and fleeting, but Jen feels warm all over anyway. "There might be a few things that you're not familiar with either. You can call me or text me if you've got questions."  
  
"It's not that. It's just."  
  
Silence. Link tilts his head slightly and Jen avoids his eyes, cheeks beet red. She's probably gonna break out in stress hives or something. "Jen?" Link prompts.  
  
Jen swallows. "I'm not familiar with a lot of this."  
  
"It's okay," Link says. "I already said that-"  
  
"I've never done it. Any of it."  
  
Link goes quiet and so does Jen. The clock ticks loudly. The heater kicks on. And then Link sucks in a deep breath. "Any of it?" he prompts.  
  
Out with it, then. "I'm a virgin."  
  
"Oh," Link says. His voice sounds a little weaker and Jen looks up immediately, ready for a fight. "Well."  
  
"Yeah?" she asks sharply.  
  
"Well, maybe..." Link plucks the packet out of her hands. "Maybe we pare down this a little bit and then, uh. Look at it later."  
  
There's a spark of humiliation in Jen's chest, thick and suffocating, and she fidgets, pulling her jacket in and out of her fist so it's wrinkled and ruined. "What, does that mean I can't be one of your subs?" she asks.  
  
"That is absolutely not what that means," Link says. He pulls out a sharpie and considers the packet. "Not at all. Just that the game's changed a little."  
  
"How has it changed?" she demands.  
  
"A relationship between a dom and a sub isn't just about sex, Jen," Link says, "but I'd be lying to you if I said a lot of people didn't think it was important."  
  
She hesitates. "Are you one of them?"  
  
"Nah." Link shrugs. "Sex is sex. I mean, sure, it's helpful as both a reward and a punishment 'cuz of the endorphins and intimacy there, but nah, it's not required."  
  
Jen looks down and frowns at her jacket, then starts desperately trying to smooth it out against her thigh again. "Have you ever had a sub you didn't have sex with?" she asks, mumbling it more than anything.  
  
"No one but Stevie. But I'm willing to try it with you too."  
  
There's the soft sound of Link marking things out with his sharpie over and over again as Jen tries to save her jacket, but there's no doing. She'll need an iron. She feels irrationally frustrated over that and shrugs her jacket off so she doesn't have to look at it. When she glances up she sees Link studying her bare arms, but he quickly looks down again when he realizes she's looking. "It's not that I don't want it," Jen finally says. "The sex."  
  
"Okay," Link says after a pause.  
  
"There just hasn't been a good time. I was just...I was trying to get a full ride for college, then I was trying to get internships, then I got the job here, and just..." She shrugs. "I guess I just haven't penciled it in yet."  
  
There's a strangled sound that Jen immediately recognizes as Link trying not to laugh. "Sorry," he says. "I-I've never heard of anybody just, uh, trying to schedule losing their virginity."  
  
"I like schedules," Jen mumbles. "They're soothing."  
  
They're quiet again, Link flipping through the pages and coloring out whole sections of the packet, Jen trying to sort through her embarrassment. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was a mistake to admit. But she knows that Link is, is intimate with his other subs. She's walked in on it once or twice and she's heard it a heck of a lot of other times. If she hadn't said something now, she knows for a fact that it would've come up when Link tried to touch her.  
  
Not...not that she'd mind him touching her.  
  
"Here we go," Link says, offering the packet back, and Jen takes it. "You can look over it later if you want."  
  
He's said that before, but just like then Jen ignores it. She flips open the packet and pauses at the new line scribbled at the top of the list, with three boxes messily drawn beside it. _Loss of virginity,_ it says, and just reading the words makes something inside of Jen tingle. She doesn't realize she's holding her breath until she sucks in a sharp gasp. "Did you, uh. Is that a joke?" she asks, looking up.  
  
Link holds her eyes very intently, warm and focused, and he shakes his head. "Nope."  
  
"Okay," she says, though her voice is a little weaker than she expected.  
  
"It's not a requirement," Link is quick to say. "You can check 'no' just like you would on anything else. But if it's something you wanted...we could talk about it."  
  
Jen nods, looking down. Her skin is hot all over. Okay.  
  
"It's not just meaning what everybody else means when they say it either," Link says. "Virginity's just, it's a silly idea anyway, and maybe you put a lot of stock in it, I dunno, but I just mean, like...any sexual thing you might be interested in, we could play with that. You wouldn't have to be penetrated. Hell, I wouldn't have to touch you at all, if you wanted. Could just walk you through touching yourself. I wouldn't mind that a bit."  
  
She imagines herself stripped down, laying back on this couch, Link sitting next to her in his rolling chair with his elbows on his knees, his hands tented in front of his mouth, watching Jen roll her clitoris under her finger, murmuring low praise. She feels the immediate rush of arousal in her panties and shifts uncomfortably, flushing even deeper when the press of her vagina against the couch makes a thrum shoot through her. "Can I get back to you on that?" she asks.  
  
"Absolutely. No rush, remember?"  
  
She nods.  
  
"Do you have any questions you wanna ask?" Link prompts.  
  
Jen shakes her head. "I-I've done a lot of reading," she says. "And I've been here a while. I think I know enough."  
  
"Well," Link says with a chuckle, "if you change your mind, you've got my number."  
  
"Yeah." She stands up. "I'll let you know."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Jen collects her jacket and tries not to drop it, then folds the packet in half so no one else can see it as she hurries toward the door.  
  
"Hey, Jen?"  
  
She turns to look at him, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"  
  
Link grins at her. "I'm real glad you came to me about this."  
  
There it goes again, the rush inside her underwear. She nods quickly, then opens the door and escapes, not even bothering to shut it behind her.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Jen prepares for the packet just like she prepared for studying all through college. She makes tea. She prepares a plate of raw veggies and a dollop of ranch dressing. She lays out a highlighter and multiple colors of gel pen. She sets out sticky notes.  
  
She makes one exception, and that's that she puts on her comfiest pajamas and her fuzziest socks, because before she goes into this she wants to feel as safe and warm as she possibly can.  
  
She takes a long moment to stand behind her chair, studying the packet, before she takes a deep breath and sits down. Okay. She's ready.  
  
She starts on the second page of the list. Maybe that's a cop out, but it feels like the best thing to do. She goes through the items and considers each of them. Spanking. Maybe. Burning. No. Electroplay. Maybe. Being cut. Maybe. Being slapped. No. It's all standard things that she might expect, but it makes her flush anyway. She wonders if any of the subs went through the list and checked 'yes' next to every single suggestion.  
  
Will Link judge her for not being up for most of these things right away? She can't say. She wants to think he'll be better than that, but what'll he be getting out of this relationship with her that he's not getting from anybody else? The only thing she can think of is her virginity.  
  
Jen sets the pen down and sits back in her chair. She tugs her legs up and wraps her arms around them, resting her face gently against her thighs. She reaches forward tentatively and turns the page back to the first one.  
  
It's not that Jen highly covets her virginity. It's really not. She didn't wait out of religious reasons. It just...there was never time, okay? Never. No time, and...and no one who really got her curious enough anyway. The one guy in high school she went with for a while, he groped her boobs under her sweater like they were stressballs, and that sort of killed the urge to explore with guys her age after that. Girls? Well. That was a possibility, but that took a whole other consideration, and as far as she knew all the girls around her were straight as a board anyway. Maybe she'd just been clueless, but...  
  
She forces herself to consider the facts. One, Link is...apparently up for this. Two, Link is not her age, and that means even beyond his own entanglements with the others, he doubtless has a wealth of experience. Three, Link made it clear that he doesn't even have to touch her, that she could just...just do what she likes to herself, and that's invaluable, knowing he has no expectations. Four...Link is...  
  
Jen squeezes her eyes shut and huffs. Okay. She knows what Link is. She knows what Link's always been to her. She understands the draw that's there. She understands that she's rarely ever felt that draw to any other guy. And that's intimidating as heck.  
  
_But why?_ She frowns harder. _Why is it intimidating if he already said he'd enjoy it?_ She can't exactly strike out, after all. And Link would doubtless be gentle with her.  
  
Jen tucks her hair behind her ears again and exhales slowly. She picks up her pen and hovers it over the page for a long second. And then she checks 'yes.'  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Jen finds herself in a very similar position the next day as Link goes through the packet. Her arms are wrapped around her legs. Her eyes are on his face. She feels very contained and surprisingly safe for how exposed she is on those sheets of paper. Link has a pen pressed to his mouth, brow knit as he reads, but even though Jen studies his face intently, he doesn't give any indication of pleasure or surprise or disappointment as he reads. Keeps a perfectly neutral expression. Hums every once and a while in thought. But nothing beyond that. Nothing she can hold to her chest and use to prepare herself for what might come.  
  
After a bit he closes the packet and sets it down. "Okay," he says. "So you're set on this?"  
  
Jen nods.  
  
"All right." Link crosses his legs as he sits back in his chair, slouching, studying her right back. "We'll go slow. I know your safeword. If there's anything you ever have questions about, you can ask and I'll answer."  
  
"Okay," she says. "Is there anything in particular I need to call you?"  
  
"I prefer 'sir,'" Link says. He pulls off his glasses and starts cleaning them on his shirt. "Just to establish that base line of authority. If there's anything you'd ever prefer to call me, we can discuss that. Just needs to have the same kind of implications."  
  
She nods.  
  
Link glances up at her. It's always a little bit disconcerting to see him without glasses, especially when he grins like that. He looks so young. "I also want you to reply verbally when I ask you questions. Wanna make sure you're focused. Wanna make sure I can always hear you too no matter what I'm looking at or what I'm working on. Got it?"  
  
"Yes sir," Jen says. She's a quick learner, what can she say?  
  
"Good girl." The compliment feels foreign to her, something that she almost chuckles at, but she can't deny the bare base of warmth there too, the acknowledgment that she craves. "Is there anything you don't want me calling you?" Link asks. "Any pet names you hate?"  
  
Jen considers it. "I don't like being called 'baby.' Anything else is okay, I guess."  
  
"Got it. If that changes, just lemme know." He slides his glasses back on. "Anything in particular you wanna play with first?"  
  
Jen shrugs, trying to pretend she's not fluttering inside with nerves. She came in here hoping to dive right in just so she can get some better sleep tonight than she did last night. Seems like Link's on the same page. "No sir, I think I'm pretty open to whatever I checked 'yes' to."  
  
"Okay." Link tilts his head to the side. "So the sex."  
  
Her cheeks immediately flame up. Her palms tingle. Of course. "Yeah?"  
  
He quirks a brow.  
  
"Yes sir," she quickly amends.  
  
"Good." Link traces a pattern on the arm of his chair as he talks. "Would you be comfortable with starting with something sexual or would you prefer something else? You had shibari checked too, we could work with that."  
  
The weight of Link's eyes on her are heavier than she thought. They settle somewhere in the base of her belly, stoking a small fire there, one that crackles and tingles and makes her blush spread all the way down her neck. She considers leaning toward shibari, just letting her thoughts touch on it for half a second, but everything she's seen has involved the person being tied up being naked, and she's not sure she's ready for him to see her like that, tied down and vulnerable and unable to cover herself if she changes her mind.  
  
But if they...if they played with something else, he said that she could dictate exactly how it went. She could do what she does sometimes at home and touch herself over her clothes. She feels the tickle of that thrill over her skin again, imagining Link watching, not touching. Imagining her muscles getting loose and warm before she touches Link's hand and coaxes it to cup her body through her shirt.  
  
And God, everybody else in the office has always been casual about it, right? They go out, they hook up, they talk about their exploits in the office the next day. Maybe it's easier to be like that than she thinks. Maybe it's just a switch that she needs to find in her head and flip. "We could. We could try something."  
  
"Something...?"  
  
"Sexual." She swallows. "I'd like to do that." And it's true. She says it just to bolster herself, but then she feels the rush through her that makes her a little light-headed, like she's felt sometimes watching Link's hand gently wrap around the back of Stevie's neck where he can thumb at her hair, like she's felt sometimes seeing Link put his hands on either side of Rhett's shoulders when he leans down behind his chair to murmur something near his ear. She's liked watching that. And she'd like having Link that close to her too.  
  
"All right." Link reaches up and traces the curve of his bottom lip, and God, but Jen watches harder than she ever has before. "With me? Or with someone else here? Think any of my subs would be up for playing with you."  
  
Stevie pops into mind followed by Eddie, but while they both feel safe to consider neither of them elicit an immediate reaction from her body like Link does. Maybe that's because Link is here, so close, so warm, so real, but then again, it's always been that way, hasn't it? "I'd like it if it were you," she says. It doesn't matter how nervous she is. She needs to be plain about it so there's no miscommunication.  
  
"I'd like that too," Link says softly. Goosebumps skitter across her skin, painting tingly patterns in her body. "You been kissed before?"  
  
She nods. "Yes sir."  
  
"And touched?" He tilts his head and his hair flops over slightly, shining in the soft light. "Has someone else touched you before?"  
  
"Yes sir," she says again, but her voice sounds a little huskier. It embarrasses her more than she's prepared for.  
  
"Where?" Link asks, flicking his eyes down.  
  
"Um." Jen swallows hard, then touches her own body as she speaks. "My, uh. My waist. My hips. My legs." She pauses. "My breasts." She touches the curve of one, feeling the weight of Link's eyes even heavier there.  
  
Link nods slowly. "What about your pussy?"  
  
Jen exhales shakily, fire licking all down her body. She's never had her vagina called that to her face. God. Her hand drifts down her torso and rests gently under the curve of her belly, her fingers too shy to drift any lower. "No sir."  
  
"Okay." Link's chair squeaks as he sits back a little further. "Do you want me to touch you today? Or would you like to touch yourself?"  
  
Jen's heart is fluttering so fast that she thinks she might pass out, and her blood's running hot enough to burn. She forces herself to think critically, not to jump on the first available idea. "Can I start with touching myself? A-and then let you know?"  
  
"Of course." He smiles. "If you change your mind or you wanna stop, you just let me know, okay?"  
  
Jen nods. "Okay."  
  
"There's a system," he goes on, flicking his eyes back up. "Like a stoplight. You know how a stoplight works, Jen, you see a green light and you drive through, you see a yellow light and you slow down, you see a red light and you stop. Basic stuff." He pauses, making sure he has her attention. "We use that when we play too. If I ask you how you're doing, I want you to reply with a color. You'll say you're green if you're enjoying yourself and wanna keep going. You'll say you're yellow if you wanna slow down or if you wanna try something else. And you'll say you're red if you need to stop right away. Understand?"  
  
It's not that complicated. She nods again. "Yes sir."  
  
"Good girl." He smiles and she feels that flicker of reward through her again. "You can call a yellow or a red at any time. Don't need to wait 'til I ask. Don't be afraid of it." He's keeping his eyes on her face now and she tries to decide if she's disappointed or not, that he isn't studying her body like he was before. "Do you wanna kiss me first?"  
  
God, she's wanted to kiss him since the first second she saw him. "Yeah, yes sir, I-I'd like that."  
  
"Okay." Link holds out his hands. "C'mere, Jen. You can sit in my lap if you want."  
  
She's not afraid that she'll be too heavy, but she still pauses in front of his chair, trying to figure out the best way about it. "Will I tip it over?"  
  
"Nah." He grins. "I'll keep you safe. Promise."  
  
"Okay." Jen bites her bottom lip. She takes one of his hands, then stabilizes herself with the other on the chair arm and carefully crawls into his lap. She straddles him without thinking, and the chair tips back enough that she gasps and grabs his shoulder in alarm, eyes huge. But no, he keeps the chair upright. He rests his hands on her hips, large and solid, and when Jen looks down at his face she realizes that he's drawing his eyes all over her body again, just like she wanted.  
  
"You're something else, Jen," he murmurs. "Bright. Gorgeous. You keep this place running better than almost anybody."  
  
"Well, nobody can compete with Stevie," she says softly.  
  
Link chuckles. "Hell, I can't compete with Stevie." He looks up and reaches to cup her face. His hand is so huge against her head, but so gentle, cradling her cheek like it's the most delicate thing he's ever touched before. Is he this gentle with everyone? She knows he is, she's seen it, but having it turned on her is something else entirely, something that lights her up from the inside out. "Why don't you come down here and kiss me, girl?"  
  
Jen nearly overturns the chair with how quickly she leans down.  
  
Link doesn't taste like she expected. He doesn't taste like anything in particular, actually, just, just like himself. Like skin and heat and energy, enough energy to power a whole house without blinking. He kisses her as sweet as anything, as if they were two high school sweethearts tucked in the backseat of his car, and Jen wraps her arm around his neck and makes a soft sound.  
  
Link hums in response, tipping his head to the side, and she feels the curious touch of his tongue against her mouth before she opens her lips and lets him ease inside. She traces her tongue over his and hears his sound of affirmation before he pulls back. "This okay?"  
  
"Yes sir," she whispers, and he pulls her back in.  
  
She's never kissed somebody that lit such a fire inside of her. Is this what everybody else feels all the time when they look at someone, when they touch them, when they kiss them, or is Jen just lucky today? Maybe there's something wrong with her, or maybe she's just particular, but whatever it is, just kissing Link is enough to make her hot in her panties and she doesn't know what to make of it. Her arousal feels thick, already heavy enough that when she shifts she can feel the slickness, and she moans without realizing it.  
  
Link's hands stay careful. One stays on her waist, and the other pets up and down her back in smooth, firm strokes like she's a shy animal that might dart away at any moment. He has no idea what's really going on inside of her, then, the storm raging in her chest, the inferno scorching through her belly. She wiggles to try and get closer and the shock that goes through her underwear takes her by surprise. She didn't even realize+ she was close enough to grind on him. She hesitates, then does it again and makes a wounded sound.  
  
Link breaks the kiss with a grunt of his own. "Now, hold on there, honey," he murmurs. "You're gonna touch yourself for me, remember?"  
  
Jen feels eaten up with embarrassment, flustered as anything. Her chest feels tight. But she's already here. She's already in his lap and close as anything, regardless of what he says. She considers this for a long moment, considers her options, before she presses her forehead against Link's and grinds against him one more time, slow and sure.  
  
Link's hands fly to her hips and hold her still. "You gonna be a bad girl now?"  
  
Jen's breath kicks up even faster, pure panting and nothing else. "What happens if I'm a bad girl, sir?" she whispers.  
  
"Then I won't kiss you at all," he murmurs back. "And you won't be touching nothing neither."  
  
God, that's the cruelest thing he could sentence her to right now. Would he? Would he really do that? She doesn't know a ton about men, but porn's taught her that Link'll enjoy it if she grinds against him just as much as she did, so what's the likelihood he'd deny them both just out of the sake of some...God, that'd be a punishment, wouldn't it? No, Jen's heard enough quiet gossip around the office to know he wouldn't hesitate to dole that out. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to catch her breath. "...I-I'll be good, sir."  
  
"Good girl." His hands squeeze around her hips and she wonders what it would feel like for him to pick her up with that strength, to press her into the couch, to grind against her just like she'd done to him. "You wanna touch yourself over your clothes or under? Or do you wanna take 'em off for me?"  
  
She's never heard him drawl like that, so Southern, so breathy, so loose and easy. God. "Under," she whispers back.  
  
"All right." He kisses her softly one more time. "Then you'd better get started, huh?"  
  
Jen presses against him and kisses him all the harder. She's addicted. How is she supposed to get by without this every day? God, she realizes suddenly that she doesn't have to, that she _can,_ that she can kiss him whenever he lets her now, and it's that thought that makes her ease her hand under her shirt from below, under the soft fabric of her bra, so she can tease over one of her hard nipples. She whimpers against his mouth, kisses going clumsy and slick, and Link growls, his fingers pressing into her hips again.  
  
What will his fingers feel like? They're so much bigger than hers, so much rougher. She squeezes her nipple cruelly just to make her toes curl and makes another sound, pulling back from the kiss to catch her breath.  
  
"Yeah," Link whispers. "Yeah, that's it, honey, c'mon."  
  
She sits back so she can cup her breast with her palm and thumb over her nipple, each little touch like an electric shock that rips right through her. It's always playing with fire when she stimulates her nipples. They push her so quickly to the edge of climax every time just with a few moments of touch, and here, leaning back against Link's supporting thighs, feeling the warmth of his body under her, the strength of his hands, every touch is inflamed.  
  
"That feel good?" Link asks in that rough drawl, and Jen gasps, immediately cupping her breast and squeezing, getting away from her nipple. He can't just, just talk like that, he can't sound so dang attractive, it just...  
  
"Feels really good," she whispers back. "Oh."  
  
"You need to stop?" Link asks. "Tell me your color, Jen."  
  
She works through them in her head for a moment before she realizes what she wants. "Green," Jen says quickly. "Green, just. I, uh."  
  
"You look a little overwhelmed." Link reaches up and slides his fingers through her hair, slow and tingling, and Jen leans into his touch with a low sound. "Need to slow down? We can go back to just kissing if you want."  
  
"Is that what you want, sir?" she asks.  
  
They lock eyes and Link frowns. "Hey, this is about what you want, Jen, not me, remember? I wanna do what you want."  
  
"I'm asking, though," she says, tracing her eyes over his face, trying and failing to read it.  
  
Link considers, biting the tip of his tongue so it peeks out between his lips. "...I like just kissing you," he says, "but I also like watching you touch yourself. And I like just talking with you too. I'm not gonna be disappointed no matter what you do. You don't gotta be afraid of that."  
  
Jen nods slowly and forces herself to internalize that. Link wouldn't lie to her unless it was for content, and even after that he'd apologize profusely. She knows him well enough to know that for certain. But she's already here. She's hot all over. And, quite honestly, she's never been good at denying herself climax. She swallows and decides she should take a line from the girls she's watched in porn and opens her mouth. "Do you really like watching me touch myself?" she asks, cheeks immediately flaming up. Her mouth feels clumsy, but she pushes on. "Does it make you..." She can't say it, God. "...aroused?"  
  
But Link doesn't laugh at her. He doesn't even smile. He bites his bottom lip and rakes his eyes over her, from bottom to top. "It makes me real hard for you, Jen," he murmurs. "You ever wanna see, you just tell me."  
  
Jen blinks and looks down between them. She doesn't gasp, because she's not a wilting flower or whatever, but there's, wow, there's something definitely alarming about seeing how he's. He's filling out his pants right now. Okay, so that's what it looks like when someone with a penis is aroused. Wow. It looks like it might be uncomfortable, especially with how tight Link's pants are, but he doesn't seem to be in visible pain. Maybe he's just hiding it for her sake so he doesn't scare her.  
  
She tips her head to the side and pulls her hand out from under her shirt. She lets her hand hover tentatively, heart pounding and nervous, before she ever so gently touches her hand to the curve of his arousal.  
  
Link makes a soft sound and Jen pulls her hand back like she burned it. "I'm sorry," she says, "I should've asked, I'm really-"  
  
"No, no, it's okay," Link says, his hands tightening on her hips again. He takes a deep breath. "No, you can touch all you want, Jen, don't you worry about that. You just take your time and go at your own pace."  
  
Is she going fast? God, she's been going fast this entire time, hasn't she? She presses her fist to her mouth and tries to breathe around it. She's just been throwing herself in with reckless abandon. Isn't she supposed to be shier about it? Isn't that how all the virgins are in the movies she watches?  
  
"Color?" Link asks.  
  
Jen blinks rapidly. "Am I going too fast?" she asks, because getting trapped in her own head has never ended well.  
  
"No, Jen," Link murmurs. He cups her face again and guides her eyes back to his. "If you don't think it's too fast, then it's not too fast." He grins. "Listen, my first time was over in thirty seconds, so I think you're going at a real good pace right now."  
  
Jen snorts, then covers her face to hide it. "Oh God."  
  
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," he says dryly. "There's no stopwatch running. There's no time that we gotta be out here by. There's no record we're trying to beat. It's all about you and me, okay?" He grins at her and lifts his eyebrows in question. "Do you wanna stop today and try again later?"  
  
"No," she says immediately, then blushes again. "No, I, uh..." She doesn't know how to phrase it. She wiggles for a moment in Link's lap, feeling the ache in her panties again, but Link doesn't hurry her or ask questions, just waits patiently while she tries to phrase it. "I would...like to..." She waves her hand slowly as she parses through her mind. "...like...like to, uh. Climax."  
  
"Okay," Link says quietly. "That's okay. You know how you wanna come?"  
  
She exhales sharply, trying to focus and think through this logically. Something feels amazing about Link watching her while she touches herself, but there's something terrifying about it too. What if she has a weird face when she's touching herself? What if he thinks she looks gross? What if she embarrasses herself with the noises she makes? "I-I, umm..." Jen licks her lips and tries again. She's an adult. She's educated. She can use a complete sentence. She's done it before. "Could I maybe have...something else to focus on?"  
  
"Sure." No hesitation from Link, just immediate acceptance. Thank God for him. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
It'd be weird if she asked just to sit facing the corner while she touched herself, right? She shouldn't ask for that. She considers.  
  
"Do you normally watch something while you're getting off?" Link asks.  
  
Jen blinks. "Huh?"  
  
"Do you watch porn?"  
  
"Oh." Jen flushes again. She looks away. "Yeah."  
  
"Well, let's do that." Link slides his hands around her back and turns her to her side so she's sitting on one of his thighs. "C'mon." He scoots toward his computer.  
  
"A-are you allowed to do that?" she asks, mildly mortified.  
  
"What, pull up porn?" Link grins. "Jen, I don't know if you know this, but me and Rhett are kind of in charge of the filters around here."  
  
"Okay." Jen looks at the computer when they pull up, jittery and nervous. "Uh."  
  
"Go on." He tugs her so she's sitting between his legs now, facing the keyboard, and she turns an even deeper shade of red as she feels his thighs squeeze around her hips. "Just pull up anything. Whatever your favorite is."  
  
God. Embarrassing. "Are you gonna watch too?" she asks.  
  
"Sure." Link shrugs. "Ain't nothing to be embarrassed about, Jen, just people fucking each other."  
  
Oh wow, okay. The crassness makes her swallow hard and she regrets how her legs are pressed together like this because even just breathing makes them rub together, makes her slick panties become even more apparent. She tentatively touches the keyboard, pausing, then types an address she knows well into the browser.  
  
"What're you pulling up?" Link asks, resting his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.  
  
She can feel the press of his, his arousal against her back, wow. Focus, Jen. "It's a couple," she says hesitantly. "They, uh. They do a lot of videos from their bedroom."  
  
"You like watching regular people fuck?" Link asks lightly, breathily. "That do something for you?"  
  
She'd checked 'maybe' on voyeurism. Maybe she should've made it a 'yes' if the way her heart skips a beat is any indication. "Yes sir," she murmurs.  
  
Link touches his mouth to the shell of her ear as she goes through their videos. "Would you like to watch me fuck somebody for you?" he asks softly.  
  
Her fingers trip up on the keyboard and she murmurs something under her breath, goes back to trying to type in the search bar. "I-I..."  
  
"Maybe if I record it for you," he goes on. "Maybe if I send it to you. Tell you to watch it when you're home and to rub your pussy while you're watching."  
  
"God," she whispers. She gives up on typing, presses her hands into the desk and gasps shakily.  
  
"Maybe if I tell you to suck on your fingers a little first," he murmurs, "so they're all wet and slick when you start playing with your clit."  
  
Her eyes fall shut, hypnotized by Link's voice, by his words. She wraps a hand around his wrist and squeezes, trying to gain some ground again.  
  
"Do you like putting things inside yourself, Jen?" Link asks. "You like putting a finger in your pussy when it's all hot and wet?"  
  
"Y-yeah," she whispers.  
  
There's a sharp stab of pain as Link nips her ear, one that makes Jen cry out and grind against the chair. "Try again, honey," he whispers back.  
  
Her thoughts frantically fly every which direction before she realizes what he wants. "Y-yes, yes sir."  
  
"Good girl." His fingers ghost up and down the curve of her waist. "So maybe I tell you to fuck your pussy with your fingers just like I'm fucking them, huh? No matter how slow, how fast, you gotta keep up with my cock."  
  
She whimpers and immediately slaps her other hand over her mouth, trying to hide it.  
  
"And maybe I look right in the camera," he murmurs, "right near the end, and maybe I tell you to come for me, Jen. Would you do it?"  
  
"Oh God," she murmurs behind her hand. She's panting, she realizes, and grinding down on the chair without even thinking, dragging desperate sensation through her body. "Yes sir, yes, please."  
  
"Good girl," Link murmurs, almost slurring the words. And then his hands lock around her hips and hold her still. "Slow down, there, honey. I'm not ready for you to come yet."  
  
God, what a, he's so...Jen squeezes her eyes shut and tries to focus.  
  
"That's it." Link presses a kiss to her cheek, so soft and mild compared to the filthy words that were just flowing from his mouth, and she sinks back against him with a shaky sigh. "Go on, Jen, pick a video," he says just before his mouth wanders down her jawline.  
  
Jen prides herself on her focus, her command of her senses. She's not easily distracted if she doesn't wanna be. But she can't deny that while she's looking through the thumbnails, her mind is far more fixated on the trace of Link's mouth over her neck.  
  
She ends up selecting a video that she's watched more times than she can count. The guy in question has his mouth between the girl's legs, and he licks and teases at her there for the length of the video, a good twenty minutes, regardless of how the girl moans and wiggles and begs for more. Jen has to admit that she's always been curious about how oral sex must feel. She's never seen anyone in these videos complain about it, at least.  
  
She watches the first few seconds of the video, where the guy is easing the girl's legs up to point at the ceiling while he kisses down her thigh, and Link seems at first like he's going to content himself with mouthing at her neck, soft and slick and teasing. But then he's pulling Jen back against him a little harder, so she's sitting tall. "Touch yourself."  
  
Jen recognizes the soft command and feels the effect of it wash over her, all shivers and heat. Desire, she realizes, this is what it feels like. She's not disappointed in her late discovery. No, she's almost overwhelmed by the force of it, by the ache of her own body. She breathes as evenly as she can as she traces her hand down her torso, fingers running over the slope of Link's forearm during her journey. Link brushes his teeth over her neck in a bare tease, and she wonders not for the first time what a hickey must feel like. "Please," she whispers.  
  
"You want me to bite you?" he asks breathlessly.  
  
Jen nods quickly. "Yes sir."  
  
Link hums right before he sinks his teeth into her skin. She gasps wordlessly, stiff and shaking, at the little burn of pain, at how he moves his teeth to draw the sensation out until she can practically feel herself dripping in her panties. God, just, the amount of money she would give to have this afternoon never stop.  
  
Jen loses track of her hands with all of her focus on Link's mouth and she moans when she cups her vagina through her jeans. She presses the palm of her heel just like she likes it, grinding her hips down, eyes on the video playing, ears on the soft sound that Link makes. Is that a moan? Is he enjoying this as much as she is?  
  
She could die like this, she thinks. She could give up all of her accomplishments and her plans and her ideas and lose herself in the feeling of Link's arms tightening around her as he marks her skin, as she drowns in the sheer rightness of, of doing something right, of doing it well, of just...  
  
Link lets off with his teeth and kisses up the slope of her neck, leaving a line of tingles behind. "I could eat you out just like that, if you want," Link whispers against her ear. "I bet your pussy tastes amazing."  
  
"Oh," Jen murmurs, flushed, embarrassed. "I-it, uh, it smells...strong."  
  
"Good," Link murmurs with a pleased hum. "Means you're horny as hell, doesn't it?"  
  
She's always been flustered by how strong her vagina smells when she's getting off. She can't imagine someone being aroused by that.  
  
"I'd like to lick up every drop," he murmurs. "Tease you up with my tongue. With my lips. Keep you there for hours just feeling fucking amazing."  
  
Jen's hips buck down without warning and she whines again, tipping her head back, closing her eyes.  
  
"You know how hard I'd be, Jen?" Link asks, brushing his nose over the curve of her ear. "I'd have to touch myself just so I didn't go mad."  
  
"God," she whispers. She shifts, pressing her fingers against her sweet spot through her pants, feeling little stars at the edge of her vision, teasing and sweet. "Would you..." She bites her tongue.  
  
"What?" Link asks. "Would I what, honey?"  
  
"Would you..." She doesn't know how to say it. Her cheeks flame. "...put...yourself inside me?"  
  
Link groans and presses his fingers into her hips again. "If you wanted me to. But not at first. No, Jen, I'd wanna make you come first. I wanna see your face and hear you say my name as you came all over my face." He sucks her earlobe between his lips, soft, teasing. "And then I'd fuck you, if you asked me to. And I'd make you come again."  
  
She can't handle this anymore. Her fingers feel clumsy and weak. She grabs Link's wrist, pulls, shifts, until his hand is, is-  
  
God, the sound she makes when she feels Link's hand cup her through her jeans. He rubs her gently, drawing out the tease, and she whimpers and moves her hips down so she can grind on his hand all the harder. Yeah, that's it, that's what she likes. She twists her head and presses her forehead against his cheek, gasping.  
  
"That feel good?" Link asks, husky and rough. "That what you want?"  
  
"Yes sir," she whispers. "Oh God, oh-"  
  
"You tell me if you want something different."  
  
She can't focus on the video right now. It was a means to an end, just a way to get her over this last hurdle. All she feels is Link, all she smells is Link, all she hears is Link, and her whole body is shaking from the force of it.  
  
She wants something else, though, she thinks, like the whipped cream on a sundae, but she doesn't know how to go about it. If it was her hand all she'd have to do is shift slightly and she'd have it, but, but with Link...there's the soft burn of frustration and she works her hips at a different angle, groaning.  
  
"You okay, honey? What's your color?"  
  
The press of her panties and jeans paired with his hand drags pain through her vagina. She grunts. "Uh..."  
  
"Tell me, Jen."  
  
"Yellow," she spits out. This is the time for it, right?  
  
Link pulls his hand away but keeps holding her close with his other arm. "Hey, breathe. You with me?"  
  
"Yeah," she says, then huffs. "It felt good, it just, the, uh, my clothes, they started to chafe."  
  
"Okay." Link kisses her cheek, then her temple. "You want me to try under your clothes?"  
  
"Oh," she whispers, heat licking all over her body. "Oh, uh. W-we can try that."  
  
"Okay," Link says with a grin on his voice. "You wanna open your pants or do you want me to do it for you?"  
  
She feels the heat of embarrassment again. She guides his hand to her button.  
  
"Use your words, Jen," Link murmurs, and for the first time she detects the warning on his tone.  
  
"Sir," she says, swallows, then tries again. "Sir, I'd like it if you opened my pants for me."  
  
"Good girl." He turns his head a little further and kisses her lips, sending a thrill through her before he even pops open the button on her jeans. And then there's the tickle of his rough fingers over her skin, drawing a soft, teasing pattern just above her pubic hair. He makes a sound when he brushes through it, then pulls his fingers out. For a moment she's worried that he doesn't like, like hair there, that he wants her bare like most of the women in porn, but no, he's, she watches as he sucks his fingers into his mouth. Link holds her eyes, working at his fingers, then he pulls them free, shiny and slick and almost dripping, and slides his hand inside her pants again.  
  
He eases under the waistband of her panties, still watching her face, and she feels like he can read the nervousness, the embarrassment at how hot she is in her pants right now, the worry that he won't like what he finds, that it'll be too much for her to feel. And then he's easing his fingers right between her lips, right over her clitoris, and Jen feels her brow knit as she gasps sharply.  
  
"Yeah," Link whispers, his lips curving in a sharp sort of grin. "There we go."  
  
Jen grabs the arm around her waist again, sinking all ten of her fingers into it as Link slowly eases his fingers through her heat, through her arousal, until he rubs against her, her hole, her...God, she can't focus on anything other than the slow, teasing draw of his fingers up and down her vagina, never pausing, never resting.  
  
"How's that feel?" he asks.  
  
Jen stammers. Her eyes fall shut without planning, and that intensifies it all even more, somehow, so she can feel each individual cell in her body swell up and tremble. He finally eases to a stop and rubs around her clitoris, one finger on either side, then gently squeezes them together and makes her arch with the explosion of sensation. "Oh my God..."  
  
"Yeah," he whispers back.  
  
Jen gasps shallowly, never quite getting a full breath of air, while Link rubs his fingers over her clitoris, drawing them back and forth, sometimes light, sometimes pressing down. She can't focus. She can't breathe. She bucks her hips needily and feels Link squeeze her back against his body again, dragging a little cry out of her. "Oh my God."  
  
"Color?" Link asks softly.  
  
"That felt good," Jen says, "when, when you...oh..."  
  
"You like this?" he asks. His arm tightens around her again, and when she tries to buck again she doesn't move a muscle. "You like when I hold you down like this?"  
  
It sets off little fireworks right under her skin every time. "Yes sir," she whispers. "Oh God, please."  
  
"I got you," he whispers. "You're not going anywhere, Jen. You're gonna sit right here and let me rub you off, aren't you?"  
  
She feels almost humiliated by the way her body reacts to that, desperate and needy and so _so_ aroused. "Yes sir," she says, voice cracking.  
  
"You're just gonna let me take care of you just like this." Link kisses the shell of her ear. "You're gonna let me have control of making you feel good."  
  
It's like he's asking a question each time, and Jen's heart flutters in need. "Yes sir, _please._ "  
  
"That's right." Link slides his fingers lower. "You want me to put my fingers inside you?"  
  
"Yeah," she murmurs. "Please, Link."  
  
She's done this enough that the ache there was the first few times that she put her fingers inside herself doesn't come up at all, even when Link only slides his middle finger in. No, there's just the slow press inside of her, and she clenches her muscles around him with a gasp.  
  
"Hell, honey," Link whispers. "You tryin'a kill me with that?"  
  
"Sorry-"  
  
"No, don't you apologize." He kisses her cheek with a groan. "Feels fucking good when you squeeze around me like that."  
  
How would that feel around...around his erection? Would he like that too? Jen squeezes her eyes shut and moans. She arches and Link holds her right back down again, putting off little explosions right behind her eyes. Will he hold her down when he has sex with her? Would he like it if she asked him to?  
  
"Want you to rub your clit while I fuck you with my fingers, honey," Link murmurs. He presses against her back, right where she can feel the swell of his erection. "Want you to come while I'm fucking you."  
  
"Yes sir," she murmurs, her hand still clumsy as she tries to work it inside her pants. Her arm burns where it brushes against Link's, and it's a tight fit for both of their hands under her waistband, but she's able to ease it next to his hand, to slide her slim fingers under the heel of his palm and rub over her clitoris just like she likes. "Oh my God, that's so good..."  
  
"Yeah?" He slides another finger inside of her and the stretch alone is enough to make her groan. "C'mon, Jen. Your tight little pussy's all hot and wet. Think it wants to come for me."  
  
God, it does, _she_ does, every inch of her does. Link locks his arm around her waist so she can barely breathe around it as she rubs at her clitoris, as she feels Link's fingers pick up speed inside of her, dragging over her sensitive muscles so that her tummy starts clenching and quivering under his arm.  
  
"Oh my God," she whispers. "Oh, Link, I-I'm-"  
  
"Yeah," he growls. "That's it, Jen, c'mon, come for me, c'mon, honey."  
  
Her orgasm hits her like a truck, slamming into her without all that much warning, just dragging pleasure and fire all through her. Link's fingers work at her through it, plunging in and out of her, and she feels flames lick her mind when she wonders if her arousal is gushing out of her around his fingers, if, if he feels it, if he can feel her climaxing around him.  
  
Jen shivers against him, slouching a little with a whine as she slides her fingers out of her pants, and his come out right with hers without hesitation, his arm locking around her so she doesn't fall out of the chair. Her mind's hazy and shivering. She feels so small right now, chest aching like something's breaking inside of her, and Link moves her easily into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pressing her face against his chest. And that's what does it, what makes the ache inside of her ease, feeling his warmth, feeling how close she is to him.  
  
She feels safe. He's holding her and he's not gonna drop her. He's not gonna send her away when she feels brittle and unsure.  
  
"That's my girl," Link whispers. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and Jen blossoms under the attention, nuzzling in even closer. "You're fucking amazing, Jen, that's so good."  
  
"Oh my God," she whispers. "Link."  
  
"Yeah?" He kisses her head two more times, soft and lingering. "What's up?"  
  
"Wow," that's all she can manage, and he laughs.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "That's about the long and short of it."  
  
"Is it always like that?" she asks, looking up at him.  
  
Link grins down at her. "Not always. Sometimes it's softer and sweeter. Sometimes it's like pulling teeth. Hell, sometimes it's even better than that."  
  
"Bull," she says. "That's impossible."  
  
"You so sure about that?" His eyes twinkle as he thumbs over her cheek, thankfully with his dry hand.  
  
The video is still playing. Jen peeks over with a frown to turn it off, then feels the flush of embarrassment. "...five minutes," she says dryly.  
  
"Hot damn," Link says, cheerful as ever. "Way to go."  
  
"Ugh." She turns off the video and closes out of the tab. "That's embarrassing."  
  
"Why? 'Cuz you know what you like and you felt good doing it?" He laughs again. "Listen, tell you what, next time if you want I'll make it last an hour."  
  
"I might die," she drawls.  
  
"What a way to go, though, right?"  
  
Jen snorts and buries her face in his chest again. She breathes him in, feeling the tingles in her body finally start to fade. "God, I can't drive like this."  
  
"Wouldn't expect you do." Link leans back in his chair, reaching for the wet naps he keeps in his desk, and starts cleaning his hand. "Will you nap if I ask you to?"  
  
"What, here?" Jen blinks. "You won't be able to breathe."  
  
"I like it like that," Link says with a low, husky tone, and when Jen blushes he chuckles. "I'm fine, Jen. I want you to be good when you drive home. Here, tell you what, if you're still asleep in an hour, I'll wake you. Promise."  
  
Well. He _is_ warm. And he's soft and safe and...and she would be lying if she said she hadn't ever thought about falling asleep in his arms. She fists her hands in his shirt, open, then closed, and huffs. "Okay."  
  
"Good girl," Link murmurs. He throws away his wet nap and smooths her hair, kissing her forehead. "We'll talk more after. You just rest now."  
  
She'd try to tell him no, but she's drifting before she can even think to.


	5. Rhett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback chapter. As Alex gets welcomed in as the newest sub, jealous Rhett acts out on camera, and he gets exactly what he deserves.
> 
> (TW for punishment, facefucking, and vomiting)

Rhett's gotten away with a lot of shit around Link in the past thirty years that they've been friends, and he'd be the first person to say that he got off way too easy during most of those times too. The first twenty, twenty-five years, whatever, there was a reason for that, and it mostly involved the fact that he and Link always busted each other's balls, had been doing it since they were children who couldn't even _say_ the word 'balls' without getting their mouths washed out with soap. Also involved the whole thing where Rhett was just quite honestly stronger than Link, that if Link ever decided it was time to throw down then Rhett could overpower him easily.  
  
Things evolved a bit over time, of course. When they were kids, there was a lot of telling on Rhett to get him in trouble. When they were teenagers, there was a lot of straight up sulking and silent treatments when Rhett had taken things too far. When they were in college, there was a lot of wrestling and caterwauling when Rhett pulled his _I'm dead_ finishing move at the end of it. When they were young adults, there was a lot of Link running his mouth in circles and Rhett easily deflecting every angry thing that Link had to say.  
  
After that, things got a little different.  
  
They didn't have words for it at first, for how Rhett would get real quiet and tense and suffocated at choice times: when a commercial shoot went wrong, when some other drunk relative would say some choice things at a family reunion about just how close Rhett and Link were, when moving across the country didn't pay like they thought it would. Didn't have words for how Rhett would pick fights with Link either. And didn't have words for how when Link turned on him and started running his mouth and telling Rhett just how much of a fucking asshole he was being, Rhett did the opposite of what he usually did. Rhett got quiet.  
  
They didn't have words for how Rhett goaded Link into slapping him across the face one day and went silent afterward, feeling like he'd shed his skin and come out the other side and didn't really know how to handle feeling fresh and new and validated just from the burn of pain on his stubbly cheek. Didn't have words for how Rhett got a little drunk one night and put his head in Link's lap and nuzzled at Link's hand until Link started to pet him. None of it was normal. None of it was something they discussed.  
  
Maybe it's a little too lucky that Link got a little search engine happy around then, but hey, it worked out, didn't it? Might've been real annoying when Link spent some of their coveted paycheck on books that talked about weird shit like BDSM and masochism and submissive behavior to a dominant figure, but...well. Things started lining up after that little by little.  
  
Rhett still acted out. Rhett still threw fits and talked circles around Link even when it wasn't necessary, just trying to embarrass him and fluster him in public. But now when Link shot him a warning look across the restaurant table, when Link stood silently in the middle of their living room until Rhett sank to his knees and hung his head, when Link wrapped his fingers around Rhett's throat and squeezed all the fear and frustration and anger out of Rhett in one smooth go, now they knew what it was. They knew what they were doing.  
  
And, surprisingly, it worked.  
  
Things have changed a lot, of course, since then. They own a multi-million dollar company. They have an office full of staff who are passionate about what they're doing. And Rhett...well, Rhett isn't the only one who gets to feel Link's hands anymore. He has to share time with the others and act like the adult he is and not like a spoiled kid that just wants Link all to himself.  
  
But sometimes that isn't easy. Sometimes, even though he shares an office with Link and an apartment with Link and a show with Link, he _misses_ him. He misses him in a way that he can't even risk expressing to himself, because he and Link, they're not, they're not _that_ way, they're just two best friends, two business owners, two roommates, two BDSM practicers. There's nothing beneath that.  
  
Even if Rhett wants there to be sometimes.  
  
He gets it, okay? He gets the whole thing where Link can't show favoritism, where he needs to be impartial to all of his subs so he can fix any problems that might arise while considering them all equally. But they've been doing this life thing together for so long. Rhett would literally die for Link. And sometimes, he just wants that little extra affirmation, that guarantee that Link values Rhett above any of the rest of them, that he'd die for Rhett too.  
  
Normally Rhett can stamp all this down or wait until he's alone to work through it himself, preferably not through punching walls anymore, but sometimes...sometimes it just gets a little too much to handle. Like when Alex is new.  
  
Alex is one of the least surprising additions to the fold. He's a fun little asshole who wants attention and tries to pretend he's not a little in love with everybody, and some discipline and undivided attention from Link's already doing wonders for him. But just like every time a new sub enters the fray, Link's focus on the rest of them gets a little spotty. And yeah, there's logic behind that. Link needs to ease the transition of the new person into the arrangement, he needs to make sure that there's clear trust and open communication there, et cetera.  
  
Doesn't matter. Rhett likes to pretend that he's above it, but he craves Link's attention just as much as the rest of the world. No matter how much logic is involved, it's not gonna change the fact that Rhett still gets a little pissy. And when Rhett gets pissy, he wants to drag everybody else down with him so he's not alone in the pit.  
  
It happens when they're filming an episode about juice. Namely, when they're tasting weird juices and trying to identify what's in both of them. Namely, when they're competing against each other, just like any other day, any other episode.  
  
Namely, when Rhett's still stewing from the fact that he and Link haven't had a scene in a goddamn week, that Link keeps sending Rhett home after work and taking a cab home later because Link's gotta spend time easing Alex into everything, that Link is just plain distracted nowadays thanks to Alex. Alex who's clearly lost his head for Link and has stars in his eyes over him. Get in fucking line, Alex. Get ready to be disappointed.  
  
Rhett likes running his mouth when he's pissy. Rhett likes making Link look like a fool when he's pissy. Rhett likes getting a reaction out of Link when he's pissy.  
  
The thing is, though, the entire time that they're filming the More, the entire time that Rhett is harassing Link about something ridiculous - namely Link winning the whole fucking thing on a technicality having to do with 'radish' and 'horseradish' - Link isn't giving in. It'd be easy, wouldn't it? Easy for Link to just yell at Rhett on camera and shut him down. Easy for Link to pinch him under the table to calm him. But Link doesn't.  
  
Maybe it's because they're older now. Maybe it's because they've got a brand to preserve. But Link holds in there. Link tries to debate him, yeah, tries to shut him down, but he doesn't lose his cool. And you know what that does? It makes Rhett look like a fucking sore loser asshole.  
  
That should be enough to make Rhett stop. But it isn't.  
  
Somehow it's worse, really, that Link doesn't just give into the childish game that Rhett keeps trying to force on him. It makes the tension keep swelling. It makes him tight in his skin and hot in his head, because, like, here's the thing: Rhett can see that it's pissing Link off. He can read it in his eyes. He can feel it in his own chest like a vise grip, twisting tighter and tighter until Rhett's heart is about to pound out of his chest.  
  
He can see that Link is gonna take Rhett to task after this just like Rhett wants, but he won't give Rhett the petty satisfaction of Link losing his shit on camera. No, what Rhett gets is that Link reaches over, takes a spoonful of the juice leftovers that Rhett's supposed to be chowing down on, and puts it in his mouth.  
  
Rhett stares at him with a knowing smile. Okay, this'll do it. Link won't lose his temper, but he'll gag and throw everything up and Rhett'll still be the one that won because he got it down. "Yeah, keep chewing," Rhett says, low, cocky. "Find out what happens in a little bit."  
  
The thing is, though, that Rhett should never get cocky. It always backfires. 'Cuz they don't get to 'a little bit.' Link swallows. He waggles his tongue, first at Rhett, then at the camera. Link won. He fucking won.  
  
And Rhett knows then and there that he's so thoroughly fucked.  
  
"Congratulations, Link," Rhett says sheepishly, looking slowly down at the bowl.  
  
"Who's the winner?" Link asks and all the little hairs on the back of Rhett's neck immediately stand up. Link's tone is smooth, breathy, firm.  
  
"You are," Rhett says. He's given up on the argument.  
  
"Who's the one in fucking charge here?" Link asks, harder, demanding. Lizzie squeaks somewhere near the back of the room. Chase shuffles.  
  
"You are," Rhett says again, fingers squeezing so hard around the bowl in front of him that his knuckles go white.  
  
"And who," Link asks sharply, "is the one in control?"  
  
Rhett takes in a shaky breath. He begins to shiver. "You are, sir."  
  
Link slams his hands on the table so hard that the whole crew jumps. "Everybody get the hell out of here," Link snaps as he comes to his feet.  
  
People start flying for the door. A chair overturns - Chase pauses to put it back on its legs before he goes. Alex lingers for a moment, eyes huge, and a voice comes - "Alex, c'mere" - and it's Stevie's voice, and Alex looks at her before his legs respond.  
  
"Eddie," Link snaps.  
  
Eddie's fumbling with the camera and he jumps away from it. "Sir, the, the camera, I'm trying to cut-"  
  
"Did I stutter, Eddie?"  
  
Eddie shakes his head a little frantically. "N-no sir," he says as he turns and barely avoids tripping over a cable in his path.  
  
Stevie waits the door, an arm out, ushering everyone out ahead of her, intentionally touching Alex's shoulder in comfort as she guides him past her. She's like a guardian angel, hair falling all around her face, cheeks pale and colorless.  
  
"Stevie?" Link says.  
  
Stevie snaps her eyes to him.  
  
Link lifts his eyebrows, rolling his sleeves up even further little by little, right in Rhett's path of vision, slow and intentional. "In my office."  
  
Stevie frowns. "But-"  
  
"My subs can take care of themselves," Link says sharply. "They don't need to do something 'cuz you told them to, they need to do it 'cuz _I_ told them to." He holds her eyes but Stevie doesn't argue. She just looks down at her feet in acceptance. "Get the fuck in my office. Get on your knees. Get ready."  
  
"Yes sir," Stevie says softly just before she shuts the door.  
  
Silence. Tension aches in Rhett's body. The only sound is the whisper of Link's sleeves a little at a time until his elbows are free. Is he afraid of staining it, Rhett wonders, is he planning on pulling out something to make Rhett bleed as punishment? Or does he just know how Rhett likes seeing the ripple of Link's forearms when he moves them?  
  
"Man, you just can't take a hint, can you?" Link drawls. Rhett doesn't reply. He's said enough. "How long was that video, do you think? Think we cracked even ten minutes?"  
  
Rhett squeezes his eyes shut.  
  
"Let's say it did. Let's say you had ten minutes to realize exactly what you were doing." Link circles the desk, but Rhett keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the sound of Link's shoes. "Let me tell you something, _one_ minute should've been enough time to make you shut your goddamn mouth."  
  
"I'm sorry," Rhett tries.  
  
"Oh, you may be," Link says firmly. "But I'm not satisfied with that. No, your mouth got you into this mess. It's not enough to get you out of it too."  
  
Rhett touches his hands to the surface of the desk. He knows Link likes seeing them. He tries to breathe evenly.  
  
"Eyes up here, Rhett."  
  
Rhett's eyes snap to Link's and hold firm.  
  
Link tilts his head to the side, lips parted in contemplation. "You wanna say your piece or you wanna make me guess?"  
  
Rhett's scared of his punishment. He's repentant. But he's not ready to lay down just yet. "How 'bout you guess?"  
  
Link lifts his eyebrows, nodding slowly. "Okay, yeah, how 'bout I do that?" Link grabs the spoon in the bowl and slowly mixes the remains of the fruit as he talks. "I think you forgot about the time I sat with you for a whole hour in the middle of our goddamn living room talking about if we should open up our arrangement or not." Link lifts the spoon and some of the slop drips from it, the smell wafting up to meet Rhett's nose. "I think you forgot that you agreed for this to stop being just you and me. I think you forgot that you _encouraged_ it." Link stabs the spoon back into the bowl just to make Rhett flinch. "And I think every single time somebody else asks me if they can be a part of this, you turn into a child. You throw a fit. Every single _goddamn_ time." Link scrapes the bowl, lifting a hefty chunk. "And instead of talking to me like a rational adult, you throw a tantrum. And usually I'm good with that. But Rhett, here's something you forget. _I'm the boss._ " Link holds the spoon right in front of Rhett's mouth. "You _asked_ me to be the boss. And until you ask me to stop, that's just how it's gonna be, huh? So go on. Throw your tantrum. But don't you _dare_ undermine my authority by doing it on camera ever again, do you understand me?"  
  
Rhett's breathing hard now, heart pounding, sweat beading on his skin under his shirt. "Yessir."  
  
"Open," Link says, and when Rhett doesn't respond fast enough Link squeezes Rhett's jaw until his lips part, hooks his fingers behind his teeth, and pulls until Rhett's on his feet and leaning down to Link's level. Link pushes the tip of the spoon inside Rhett's mouth. "Don't you dare swallow this," he says softly, eyes narrowing as he pulls the spoon back out and makes sure it's clean. He doesn't need to check. The expression on Rhett's face as the pieces of fruit all coalesce into one slimy texture and disgusting flavor is all the proof Link needs that it's there.  
  
Link shoves the spoon back in the bowl. "Hands on the desk," Link snaps, and Rhett leans down further to press them there. His back aches from the angle, but it's almost better to focus on than the chunks of fruit rolling around in his mouth. "Head down. Neck level. Back straight."  
  
Fuck, _fuck,_ Rhett's always shit at this. Rhett forces himself not to lean into the weight of Link's hand as it settles on his neck. He shifts until Link hums, then holds as still as he can, trying not to breathe. Only a few seconds later, the coolness of the coffee mug settles on his neck, right on the base of the first vertebrae. It doesn't fall.  
  
"If that falls," Link drawls, "you're gonna make it even worse for yourself."  
  
Rhett forces himself to focus on the firmness of the desk under his hands, the sharp flavors in his mouth, the tense muscles in his back. Okay. He can do this.  
  
"Chew," Link says, patting Rhett's cheek.  
  
Okay, maybe he can't. Every time he chews the fruit remains explode in even more atrocious flavors, slick and gooey and repugnant, threatening to break the concentration he's trying to find.  
  
"I'll be back in a minute," Link drawls as he starts walking away. "You're not allowed to swallow. You're not allowed to stop chewing. You're not allowed to move. And if the cup falls by the time I get back, I'm increasing your punishment."  
  
When the door shuts behind Link, Rhett forces himself to focus. Okay. Okay. He chose this. He knew it was coming. He asked for it.  
  
Fuck, why did he ask for it?  
  
For the first time since this whole day started, Rhett tastes regret. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to force it away, but it doesn't go anywhere. It settles. It stays. It grows worse and worse as the seconds go by.  
  
Why does he always do this? Why doesn't he trust Link? Why doesn't he trust the thirty goddamn years of friendship they've got? Why does he keep thinking that every little twink that wanders into the office is gonna fucking replace Rhett when Link's proved his steadfastness over and over again?  
  
Why does Rhett need to be the favorite? He knows he can't be. He knows he set himself up for that too when he pushed Link to open their arrangement to Stevie back in the day. Back then, it was safer. It was better, as far as he knew, to let other people in so that the intensity of what was growing between them didn't come up and overwhelm Rhett. But now? Would he take it back?  
  
He doesn't know. He really doesn't. He just knows that his eyes are burning, that his back is aching, that all he wants to do is throw himself on the floor and rest his head in Link's lap and feel Link's fingers pet slowly through his hair. He wants forgiveness. He wants love.  
  
But he doesn't deserve it yet. And he's gotta see it through.  
  
His arms and back are shaking so badly that Rhett barely notices the mug lands on the table with a sharp clink. It rolls over and rests against the back of his hand.  
  
Rhett squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, trying to keep it from trembling.  
  
Everything else sinks into obscurity then. There's nothing but the static in his head, the awkward aches and pains in his body from holding like this, and the dread of disobeying Link. Does time exist here? Does anything exist but the sinking awareness of how furious Link will be with him? That Rhett deserves everything he's going to get?  
  
By the time the door opens, Rhett feels icy cold, his fingers white where they're pressing into the desk, his jaw numb from the chewing. He can't see Link where his head is tilted down, but he hears Link move around him. And then there's his long fingers reaching out to pick up the mug, to hold it where Rhett can see. "Look what you did, Rhett," Link murmurs.  
  
Rhett wants to look away, but he focuses. He doesn't even blink. Two drops land on Link's hand, and even when Rhett realizes they're his own tears he doesn't feel anything.  
  
Link is quiet. He sets the mug on his side of the desk and smears Rhett's tears on his hand with his own thumb before he reaches to collect the rest on Rhett's cheek. His thumb is the one point of warmth on Rhett's entire body, and Rhett leans into his touch greedily, eyelashes fluttering.  
  
"Do you feel bad?" Link asks quietly.  
  
Rhett nods.  
  
"Do you understand why I have to punish you?"  
  
Rhett nods again.  
  
"All right." Link cups Rhett's face with both hands, cradling Rhett's chin, keeping him from chewing anymore. "Swallow for me."  
  
It's significantly easier to swallow now rather than in front of the cameras, knowing it's a small penance for how he'd acted like a child. He manages it easily, and when his throat spasms with a gag he clenches his teeth and swallows one more time in defiance. That time it stays down.  
  
"Okay." Link presses a fleeting kiss to Rhett's forehead, too quick to be a true reward. "You know that the mug fell."  
  
With his mouth clear, he instinctively responds verbally. "Yes sir."  
  
"And I said it'd be a worse punishment if it did."  
  
"Yes sir," Rhett says roughly, eyes flicking up to meet his.  
  
God, Link has the prettiest eyes Rhett could ever see - soft, vibrant, loving. Rhett's vision blurs with more tears. He doesn't deserve the sun shining on him like it does from Link's gaze.  
  
Link tilts his head to the side. "How're your knees today?"  
  
Rhett shifts, standing tall again, and frowns through a sniffle. "They...they ache a little from bending over like that."  
  
"I'm gonna fuck your face," Link says. "You want me to go get you a pillow?"  
  
The pain will be centering, even if it means he'll be aching for days and wobbly when he walks out of here. But Link's here. Link's driving today. Link can support him all the way into their apartment once Link is done with Stevie - if he hasn't punished her already. "No sir."  
  
Link steps away and Rhett follows him instinctively so they're settled closer to the back of the set, and when Link points Rhett immediately kneels in that spot. There's small beads of sweat mingling with the tear tracks on his face, and Rhett tries to relax even as his heart races at the quiet clinking of Link's belt.  
  
"I'm gonna fuck your face until I'm ready to stop," Link says as he opens his pants. "Questions?"  
  
The fruit is absolutely not sitting well. He can still feel it in his throat, he thinks, the slime gathering and trying to climb back out. "I-I need..."  
  
"Use your words."  
  
"My bucket, I need it."  
  
"Okay." Link doesn't judge him, even as Rhett's face flames under his beard. He snags Rhett's barf bucket from the desk and sets it next to him, and Rhett shudders just looking at it. There's no way out of this and he deserves every second of it, but fuck, that is the _last_ thing he enjoys. "Anything else?"  
  
Rhett squeezes his eyes shut in a second of weakness before he looks up at Link. "No sir."  
  
"Okay." Link tugs down his jeans and boxer briefs, circling to the side, and when Rhett hesitates Link grabs Rhett by the hair and tugs him to follow. "Open your mouth."  
  
Rhett's jaw drops immediately, and he barely gets a chance to see Link pumping his hand over his cock before Link is working it in past his lips. Any other time there would be foreplay and teasing - Link painting Rhett's lips with precum, Link having Rhett suck him at his leisure until Link was hard and aching and ready to go - but this time Link drags Rhett in by the hair.  
  
It doesn't matter how much Rhett lifts his soft palate like he's about to sing, because any space he makes isn't enough. Link pulls him in further and further until Rhett feels the first brush of Link's cock at his throat, and the gag is immediate. His body convulses, trying to shove the obstruction out, but all it does is inevitably pull Link in further, and, and then he doesn't even _move._ He holds Rhett there, nose against his skin, and digs his nails into Rhett's scalp.  
  
Rhett's so used to Link covering him in soft compliments that the tears stinging his eyes raise in the silence, where Link isn't even bothering to moan or catch his breath. Rhett's not a toy that Link's using to get off right now. Rhett's an afterthought, and the pleasure is an afterthought, and it's just Link making himself come so he can get back to work.  
  
Rhett asked for this. He wanted to make the world crash and burn around him, and his reward is to be treated like a simple obstruction that Link has to make his way around, that doesn't even get the time of day.  
  
Link pulls Rhett off of him, but his throat's already burning. There's no time to breathe. Once Rhett's back where he started with Link's fingers fisted in his hair, Link bucks his hips forward. There's no controlling the pace, the angle, or the pressure; there's only Link's hand to keep him steady and his own body to war with.  
  
It's less than thirty seconds before Rhett feels the first taste of acid on the back of his tongue, and his hands fly out in panic, fluttering where they land on Link's hips in warning, but his grunts are silenced by the obstruction in his throat, and Link, Link doesn't _care,_ Link has something he's driving toward and Rhett can't breathe and his throat is gagging, and he's, he's-  
  
He convulses again, pulling out of Link's hand, and barely makes it to the bucket before he's emptying his stomach.  
  
Sweat drips down his cheeks, tears falling in tandem, as he pants in the aftermath. He fists the edges of the bucket and cringes at the shiver that rakes over his body.  
  
"Hey," Link murmurs. Link is there, of course, a hand on Rhett's back and not even flinching at how the damp shirt is clinging to his spine. "It's okay, it's okay."  
  
"I-I'm sorry," Rhett mumbles. His body shakes as he lets out a sob.  
  
"I know you are, bo," Link says. He eases his fingers through Rhett's hair, ruining it thoroughly and bringing Rhett back down to the present in one smooth push of his hands. "It's good you let it out."  
  
It smells disgusting. Rhett pushes the bucket away and falls back on his ass, roughly wiping the tears off his cheeks.  
  
"Do you feel better?"  
  
"I feel like shit," Rhett says, but the tears have slowed and his stomach feels less churny even though the rest of his body is absolutely reviled.  
  
"How do you feel here?" Link asks as he leans over and touches a hand to Rhett's fluttering heart.  
  
"...better." He can't deny that. His chest is less tight, even if he's exhausted his body.  
  
"Good. C'mere." Link catches Rhett's hands and tugs him back to his aching knees. "We're not done yet."  
  
Rhett nods. He looks at the bucket with trepidation, but Link eases his fingers into Rhett's hair again, his hold gentler, and this time he runs the head of his spit-slick cock over Rhett's lips.  
  
 _God._ Rhett's heart pounds for a different reason. He brings his tongue forward, eagerly lapping at what he can reach, and Link holds his cock at a curve so Rhett can lean in and lick from Link's balls all the way up his shaft. Link lets out a soft sound in response and Rhett returns his hands to Link's hips, where he can thumb over the line of Link's skin just under his hem.  
  
Rhett's given permission to suck gently at the head for a few seconds, where he can taste the precum that drips onto his tongue, and he groans when Link pushes in so slowly that it drags down deeper and deeper, visceral and perfect.  
  
"That's it," Link whispers. "Open wide for me."  
  
Rhett squeezes once in affirmation, and then Link is pressing into his throat again.  
  
It's a different game now as Link finds his rhythm. Rhett's still gagging, but there's nothing left in his stomach and all it does is make his throat all the slicker for Link to fuck. Link's fingers leave Rhett's scalp tingling every time that Link moans.  
  
"That's good," Link murmurs, voice breathy and slight. "Yeah, Rhett, fuck, just like that."  
  
Rhett rolls his eyes back so he can watch Link's face, how Link bites his bottom lip or mouths silent swears or tosses the hair out of his eyes just before he looks down and catches Rhett's gaze. His eyes burn Rhett to a crisp, so intense that Rhett's hardness takes him completely by surprise.  
  
If it wasn't for the bucket, Rhett could convince himself that this wasn't a scene, especially with how Link's looking at him, and that's enough to make Rhett focus on sucking as best as he can so he can clear his mind in one fell swoop.  
  
It works. In seconds Link is pulling Rhett forward and holding him there as he comes down his throat with a sharp _"Fuck!"_ and all Rhett can think about is how fucking weird it is even after all these years to feel jizz dripping down inside of him without him even having to swallow.  
  
"Jesus," Link murmurs as he pulls free and comes down next to Rhett. Link leans back against the line of the desk, and even though it's gotta ache his back staying there he still tugs Rhett forward and turns him to lean into Link's chest.  
  
Rhett's whole body lights up when Link pets over his chest, his thighs, his stomach, and he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against Link's. How he wishes he could rest his head on Link's shoulder without ruining his back.  
  
"You did good," Link murmurs to him. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Rhett considers. "A little broken still," he croaks, then laughs. "God, listen to me."  
  
"I'll make you some green tea with honey tonight," Link says as he kisses Rhett's shoulders. "Maybe you'll still be able to talk tomorrow."  
  
Rhett grins. "Next time I'm bad, I'll plan it for a Sunday."  
  
"Uh-huh," Link says dryly. "Don't speak, shh, just lemme take care of you."  
  
The gentle pressure of Link's hands are enough to start rebuilding Rhett from the inside out. His pets are soft, his kisses are warm, and Rhett thinks he might fall asleep sitting up with Link's legs wrapping around his body from behind like a gentle hug.  
  
"You have to talk to me when you're upset," Link murmurs between kisses on Rhett's neck. "You've gotta tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."  
  
"You can't fix this," Rhett murmurs back. He catches one of Link's hands and laces their fingers, trying to pretend his heart doesn't soar at that one little connection. "You can't take everything back and make it just the two of us."  
  
Silence. "...is that what you want?"  
  
Rhett sighs. "No, I...sometimes I think it is, but...but I think I'd miss it. Miss everybody. Miss that little community. We get each other, y'know? We help each other in a way that a lot of friends can't."  
  
"But you still wish it was just us two sometimes," Link says.  
  
He's leading into something and fucking Rhett is too nervous to wait and see what it is. "Man, I can't be the only one handling your sadistic tendencies, who am I kidding?" Rhett teases. "My ass'd be raw three hundred and fifty-five days a year."  
  
Link laughs. "Wait, wait, what happened to the other ten?"  
  
"Those are federal holidays," Rhett says. "I need a break on Labor Day, man, c'mon."  
  
Link laughs again and squeezes Rhett around the waist in a hug, burying his face in his shoulder.  
  
The tension of the moment passes as they lean into each other. A million unspoken words fall to the floor, where they'll collect dust until another tornado stirs them into the air once more. And Rhett closes his eyes and rests the side of his head against Link's, breathing him in, thinking again _I can make it on just this. Always have. Always will._


	6. Morgan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a sudden memory of a terrifying past, Morgan finds solace in being a quiet, safe cockwarmer tucked under Link's desk.
> 
> (TW for emotional abuse, references to physical abuse, an abusive Dom, leaving an abusive relationship, and cockwarming)

Some days are easier for Morgan than others. It’s how it’s always been. One day, he’ll be feeling great about himself – perfectly shaved, in something that fits nicely, behind a camera and knowing that he’s charming great one-liners out of the crew – and then other days he’ll be falling apart seconds after an unexpected text message.  
  
The hallway breaks away as he walks, breathing harder than he wants, everything disappearing into a blurred tunnel. He has one destination – Link’s office – and nothing is going to stop him.  
  
He bursts through the door when Link is on his phone, and Link takes one look at him with fire in his eyes before he frowns and waves Morgan forward. Morgan shuts the door a little too hard, flinches at the loud sound, then crumples to his knees and crawls toward him, tears filling his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I get that,” Link says into the phone as he rolls his chair out from under the desk and holds a hand out, as if calling for a puppy. It’s the last thing that would ever offend Morgan. He nuzzles against Link’s palm when he reaches it and squeezes his eyes shut. “I understand that it’s a tight crunch, but man, like, we’ve gotta get moving, y’know? We’re not gonna get any days back. Need to get this done while we still can.”  
  
As Link’s nails scratch lightly over Morgan’s scalp, he grabs hold of both of his Dom’s calves and squeezes them, looking for purchase. The contact makes the roaring in his head go a little quieter, but it isn’t enough. _It’s never enough._  
  
“Listen, I’m gonna do whatever I can to help you, okay? You’ve just gotta trust me.”  
  
Morgan hears the double meaning in Link’s words to their client. He makes a low, affirmative sound, but it cracks with how tight his throat is – fuck, could he be any more pathetic right now? Any weaker? _Why can’t I take care of my goddamn self? How does he even put up with me?_ Tears begin flowing down his cheeks, and he buries his face in Link’s thigh to hide it from him – the last thing he wants him to think is that Morgan only comes to him when he needs something.  
  
 _Be strong for him._ Morgan lets the tears soak into Link’s jeans as he takes a deep breath. _Show him that you can be a good boy._ As he exhales, he nuzzles the dark, soft fabric.  
  
He can be good for Link. He can hold still. He can stop being a distraction.  
  
Morgan runs his hands up and down Link’s calves, listening to the soft words that he speaks. He lets them rush over his mind like a river.  
  
It wasn’t always like this. Morgan remembers being in a different place – a house that still haunts his nightmares. He remembers long nights spent bruised and aching, sitting on his knees for hours at a time until he pissed himself and felt shaky enough from dehydration that he could barely keep himself upright. He remembers asking during the first one of those long punishments for water in a rougher tone than he wanted – his throat raw from facefucking – and having the cup of hot water dumped over his head. He remembers nights of fear.  
  
That was the issue with getting into the community young, he supposes. No one told him what it was supposed to be like. No one told him that there were rules, that there were bad Doms, that there were words that he could use to get out of something he hadn’t asked for without any exceptions.  
  
No, he had one Dom – an older man in college – who took one look at floppy-haired big-eared Morgan at a play party for fellow artistic types, and then the charming began.  
  
Morgan could’ve listened to those around him who told him to be cautious, of course. He could’ve listened to the subs who skirted around the man at the party and who kept trying to draw Morgan away from him. But he hadn’t been ready for that. No, he’d been ready to be seduced – and so he had been.  
  
He remembers the long years under the man’s hand, where Morgan developed a taste for pain rather than discovered one – it was the only way that he could convince himself that their entire relationship made sense, that his Dom only wanted to teach him something that every good sub already had. He remembers the day collar that he wore – a thin choker, something a man as pretty as Morgan could get away with – and how it was always fastened just a little too tightly, like a warning rather than a prize, like Morgan had to constantly be aware that if he fucked something up then he was ruining his Dom’s reputation.  
  
His _Master’s_ reputation.  
  
He remembers being dragged deeper and deeper into a chasm where there was no color, no light, because he couldn’t tell what direction was up. He remembers being taught that no one would want a bad boy like him. He remembers being told that he was just damaged enough that now he wouldn’t be able to make it in something vanilla – that his Master was his only choice for love.  
  
That Morgan _was_ loved. And that if he ever did something to try and stop that love, then his Master would die.  
  
He remembers the gray. He remembers the haze. He remembers sitting obediently at his Master’s knees, collar attached, completely naked but for the cock cage and the plug in his ass. He remembers the sound of his Master tapping his red solo cup on his knee as others at the annual play party began to split off to the bedrooms, to the tables, to the swings and the poles and the cages.  
  
Mostly, he remembers the first time he saw Link.  
  
Link – beautiful, stunning, immaculate Link – with his black hair hanging loose by his ears and cheeks and with his glasses perched right on the edge of his nose. Link who made a pouting face and turned his head, and the giant by his side that laughed and reached to fix his glasses for him, then lifted his eyebrows expectantly. Link who’d given that man – Rhett – a kiss.  
  
Morgan couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a gentle kiss just for accomplishing a request.  
  
Link had walked with a hand in Rhett’s back pocket the entire time, scanning the room as they went through it. His gaze skittered over everyone – the couple attached by nipple clamps that were both being flogged, the man having hot wax dripped slowly down his back as he kept his hands on the wall, the woman panting with anticipation as she was covered with electrodes – but there was only one person that it lingered on.  
  
Morgan.  
  
As if an arrow with a rope attached had been shot through them both, there was no looking away. Link hesitated right at the door to the kitchen, even as Rhett passed in front of him, and he furrowed his brow.  
  
What had he seen? The fresh word - _Slut_ \- carved into Morgan’s stomach that had only just yesterday had the bandage removed to expose the scarring? The swollen bottom lip? The limp hair that hadn’t been washed in a week?  
  
Whatever it was, he leaned against the doorframe, lips parting in thought, and Morgan didn’t blink – it had been _so long_ since he’d been looked at, really _looked_ at, without expectations held right above his head.  
  
And, for the first time, Morgan found himself wishing that his Master would let him play with other Doms. Because Link was a Dom. There was no doubt about it, not with how he carried himself and how he postured up the second that a young, nude woman paused in front of him and started a conversation. But even as he smiled at her – a dazzling smile, one that Morgan _wanted_ so badly – she dipped her head and hurried past him only a few seconds later.  
  
Why had he turned her down? Why hadn’t he wanted to play? Was he not here to play? Was he only in the market for one sub?  
  
But Link’s eyes came right back to him, as warm as the ocean, and Morgan held his breath until there was a sharp pull at his leash.  
  
“Slut.” His Master reached for the clip on the collar. “You’ve let my cup get empty.”  
  
Morgan didn’t bother asking himself anymore if he’d forgotten a command or not – like to keep his glass full, for example. He simply ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Master.”  
  
His Master grunted and opened the link, then pushed Morgan with his foot so he stumbled onto his hands and knees. One solid crack of a nearby paddle had Morgan sucking in a sharp, shaky breath, his fingers digging into the floor. And then the cup was tossed onto the floor, rolling into his path. “Don’t let it happen again.”  
  
“Yes, Master.” He grabbed the cup and stood, cheeks flaming – the Doms stared at him hungrily and the subs looked at him sympathetically and he hated both pairs of eyes.  
  
The only eyes he did not hate, he realized when he looked up, were gone.  
  
Morgan made his way to the kitchen on tender bare feet, still raw from the flames he’d had them held over and the burns that were still trying valiantly to heal. He knew what his Master drank.  
  
It wasn’t alcohol. Perhaps it’d be better if it was. Perhaps Morgan could blame the frequent punishment on the fact that his Master was drunk. But he wasn’t. He never was. And that meant Morgan could only blame it on himself.  
  
He stood next to the kitchen island, head down, and reached for the green bottle of Sprite sitting on the counter. He jolted back when another hand reached for it too.  
  
“Sorry.” A higher, bright voice hit his ears. “You go first, sorry.”  
  
Morgan licked his lips, then nodded as he picked up the bottle. He opened it, then carefully started to pour it into the cup. He watched the level for a long second before he risked a glance toward the man who’d nearly taken the bottle from him.  
  
 _Warm, ocean eyes._  
  
The bottle fell from his hands, spraying soda all over the floor, and Morgan fell back against the wall with a yelp. Slapping his hand over his mouth couldn’t keep the sound already echoing around the kitchen inside, and by the time he’d grabbed the nearby roll of paper towels, the woman who owned the house – the Domme who planned every play party – came into the kitchen with fire in her gaze. “Who did this?”  
  
“M-me.” Morgan came down on his knees, working on cleaning up the mess. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am.”  
  
He felt her eyes burning into his back as he worked – she knew who he belonged to and who he’d have to be sent to for a punishment, that no one else was allowed to punish him for his mistakes. “...Morgan.”  
  
He swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“You...you know what I have to do. You wasted an entire bottle of soda. You’ve made an enormous mess.”  
  
“I deserve it,” he said as firmly as he could, as if his voice didn’t crack in the middle. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll...yes, ma’am.”  
  
“Then you need to-”  
  
“Now, don’t be too hard on him.” That high voice came back, lilting with a drawl that made goosebumps break out over Morgan’s naked skin. “Wasn’t his fault, really. I got in the way like the big dummy I am. Wasn’t paying attention, reached for the bottle myself, ended up knocking it clean out of his hands.” He chuckled. “If anything, _I_ should be the one getting paddled.”  
  
The Domme clicked her tongue. “That could be arranged, if you were interested, Mr…”  
  
“Link.” His laugh brushed over Morgan’s scalp like a prayer. “I really do hate to disappoint you, ma’am, but I’m afraid you and me wouldn’t be all that compatible.”  
  
She sighed heavily. “Pity. You change your mind, you come find me, all right, Link?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am, you bet.”  
  
Morgan didn’t realize he’d frozen during the entire exchange until the Domme left the same way she’d come. He heard the sound of boots smartly clicking on the floor, and he took one glance at the man’s legs – _Link_ – before rushing to pull more paper towels off the roll to soak up the spill.  
  
“Don’t hurry on my account.” And, just like that, Link’s voice went delicate and soft. The hand in Morgan’s peripheral vision made him flinch and draw back, and Link hesitated for a long moment before he took the paper towels away from Morgan and ripped one off himself. “Didn’t look like you were having too much fun out there, were you?”  
  
 _What’s the right answer?_ It wouldn’t be the first time a Dom had turned him into his Master for Morgan speaking too freely. He laid his last towel on the clear, bubbling liquid, and watched it slowly melt into it. “I’ve been bad,” Morgan finally said. “Bad boys don’t get to play.”  
  
“Do bad boys get bruised and cut up and spanked when they’ve been sitting there real quiet all night?”  
  
Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. And since the best response in this case was silence, he collected the wet paper towels and took them to the trashcan.  
  
“Hey. I’m not trying to get you in trouble.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan said listlessly.  
  
“I’m not! Promise. Can you look at me?”  
  
Morgan had long ago learned that requests were simply orders in a different outfit. He looked. And the breath stopped clean in his chest.  
  
Link grinned at him, his gaze going so soft that Morgan thought he could feel it on his skin like a cotton blanket. “There we go. Look at those pretty eyes of yours.”  
  
“Mine, sir?” Morgan dug his fingers into the side of the kitchen island, his knuckles going white. _Have you looked in a mirror?_  
  
“Yeah. Yours.” Link took a few steps closer, tilting his head to the side, his hands sliding into his tight pockets. “Think I could look at them all night and never get sick of ‘em.”  
  
The praise swept over Morgan palpably, springing goosebumps back up onto his arms, and he prayed that Link couldn’t see them. He didn’t look away. He didn’t blink. If he did, Link might punish him – or leave, which would be arguably the cruelest thing he could do.  
  
“What’s your name? Morgan, she said?”  
  
Morgan nodded, then remembered his training at the last second – always speak. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Pretty name for a handsome guy.” Link leaned against the kitchen island and bit his bottom lip, eyes narrowing in thought for a few seconds. “...your Dom let you play, Morgan?”  
  
God, how badly Morgan wanted to say _yes._ How badly he wanted to let this gorgeous, warm, kind man take him into his arms and ruin him for a night. How badly he wanted to accept the punishment that would come his way if he could have only a few hours of quiet, of being _good._ “No, sir, he doesn’t.”  
  
Link ‘s shoulders heaved with a sigh. He placed the paper towel he’d taken on the counter. “I kinda figured anyway. Well, crap.”  
  
Morgan’s heart pounded in his chest. “C-can I help, um, tell you where anything is in the kitchen, maybe, sir? Or the bathroom?”  
  
The way that Link looked at him again, grinning so widely, made it feel like the sun had just peeked out from behind the clouds. “No, Morgan, you’ve been a good boy for me already. Don’t need you to serve me, all right? Don’t want you getting in trouble with your Dom.”  
  
He breathed out his disappointment and stared at the paper towel as Link pulled out a pen and wrote on it. In big numbers. _Numbers?_  
  
“This is my phone number,” Link folded up the paper, so tiny that it could barely be seen. “Now, if something changes, you call me, okay?”  
  
 _For a scene._ Morgan swallowed hard and nodded again. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Link glanced up as he drew a safety pin out of his pocket – he must’ve had big plans for those – and then approached him. Morgan held his breath all over again as Link reached for his collar. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, husky and breathy. “Not gonna take it off, just gonna...” He loosened it, his fingers so close to Morgan’s bruised neck that every cell in his body trembled, and then he flipped it slightly so that he could delicately pin the paper towel inside of the collar. Then he tightened it again, but one looser – where Morgan didn’t feel his pulse pounding just under his skin anymore. “I mean...for any reason, okay?”  
  
Morgan looked up, furrowing his brow.  
  
Link hesitated for a long second before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you ready to leave him?”  
  
He froze. He became hyperaware of every part of himself, down to his very marrow, and it extended out just beyond the reach of the kitchen door, where _anybody_ could be listening. “I...don’t know what you mean, sir.”  
  
The seconds that they spent holding each other’s gazes didn’t help Morgan’s heart begin to slow back to normal. Link sucked on his bottom lip and then sighed. “Listen...just call me. Anytime. I’ve got a car. I’ve got a lot of connections here around California. I can get you somewhere safe anytime you want.”  
  
The room went blurry so quickly that it took Morgan a moment to realize that it was because tears had just filled his eyes. He looked away in mortification, swiping his arm across his eyes, trying to banish them before they started to fall – before his Master would see them.  
  
“First name Link. Last name Neal. I never have my phone on silent anymore. You call me, I’ll be there. And you won’t owe me a damn thing.”  
  
“The Sprite,” Morgan muttered, moving past him over the sticky part of the floor where he’d spilled the first bottle. “My Master...he needs his Sprite.”  
  
“Okay.” Link came around the other side of the island, smiling softly as he did so. “That’s good, Morgan. You’re being a good boy, okay?”  
  
He gasped shakily, just barely avoiding knocking the half-empty cup over as he pressed his hands into the counter – what he wouldn’t fucking give to be good! “Stop. Please. Just...just stop.”  
  
“Okay.” Silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”  
  
“I know.” Morgan squeezed his eyes shut, then sucked in a sharp breath and opened them at the same time, clearing the tears away in a flash. “I know,” he repeated in a dull voice.  
  
Link reached out, so slowly that Morgan didn’t even think to flinch, and thumbed so gently over Morgan’s cheek, then pulled back to show him the tear he’d collected on his thumb. “I’ll see you around, Morgan.”  
  
Morgan watched as Link went to the door of the kitchen. “You...you too, Link.”  
  
Link took one last look at him, flashing him such a beaming smile that Morgan thought he might go blind. And then he was gone.  
  
Morgan was flogged for the delay in his return. Link had been nowhere to be found.  
  
There were two long months where Morgan kept the number pinned inside of his collar, then another month where he kept it in his nightstand. He worked at it like a worry stone, and he’d become so anxious the first night he realized he’d worn the ink down to almost nothing that he’d immediately put the number in his phone, under Domino’s.  
  
When his Master took his phone for the weekly inspection that Monday, he didn’t notice, and if he did, he didn’t ask questions before he gave the device back.  
  
Four months went by in total before Morgan called it.  
  
“Hello?” Link answered, as bright and cheerful as the first time Morgan had ever heard him.  
  
“He won’t let me leave,” Morgan sobbed into the phone.  
  
“Morgan?”  
  
“Link, h-he, I tried to...to end it, and he’s fucking, he’s-”  
  
“Breathe, Morgan, hey, hey, it’s okay. Can you hear me? You with me, Morgan?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What’s your address?”  
  
Morgan gave it through his snotty nose and the tears pouring down his cheeks.  
  
“All right, I hear you. I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna stay on the phone. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Can you tell me what happened?”  
  
Morgan buried his face in his knees, pulling his legs close to his chest. “He’s...he’s just parked in front of my car. I-I was loading my stuff up, and he parked there, and I-I can’t, I can’t get past him, I just can’t.”  
  
“I’ve got you, okay? Got a big ol’ car. We can fit a hell of a lotta shit in this, don’t you worry.”  
  
“He won’t let you take me either.” The spike of alarm made him sit up taller. “Link, h-he’s got, like, knives and things? I don’t even know what else, but he’s dangerous, and he’ll, he won’t let you take me with you, I know he won’t.”  
  
“We’ll just see, okay? You still with me, Morgan?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Tell me everything. We’re gonna get this straightened out.”  
  
He did. For fifteen minutes, he told Link every sordid detail – how he met his Master, how he’d been collared, how he wasn’t allowed to leave – until a car pulled up outside. A car from which emerged Link and, and Rhett. And even with the extra half a foot on Rhett’s body, Link still looked like the goddamn scariest motherfucker that the world had ever seen.  
  
He’d never looked more beautiful, really, with the sparks in his eyes and the sharpness to his voice. Not even when Rhett gently touched Link’s shoulder and drew him back, got in front of him, and dropped his voice to low, steely tones that made Morgan’s Master look like he was going to shit himself.  
  
Morgan didn’t own much. He wasn’t allowed to. It fit perfectly in the trunk. And with Rhett’s suggestions and threats left behind like landmines, it wasn’t even ten minutes later before Rhett was driving them away.  
  
Morgan’s mind was silent as he leaned into Link’s shoulder the whole way.  
  
“He following us, baby?”  
  
“Nah. You think he’d follow us? Think he’d risk that? After all the dirt I told him I had?” Rhett laughed, suggestive and dangerous. “Naw, he ain’t gonna come anywhere near us. Not today. Probably not ever.”  
  
Listening to the two of them banter was...enchanting, really. Morgan had a clear place as a sub. He wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover. He was mincemeat. He was the dirt under his Master’s show, and that was where he belonged.  
  
Not Rhett, apparently. Not to Link. And it was fascinating.  
  
Morgan stayed with them the first week, crashing on the couch of their apartment, and then, the second night when he couldn’t sleep from the nightmares of his Master finding him, crawling guiltily in between Link and Rhett in Link’s bed. Discovering that...they were nude. Apologizing profusely and preparing to leave and instead finding himself tucked between them and petted and shushed until he finally, _finally,_ fell asleep.  
  
The apartment search came next. Then, when they needed proof of income, and after Morgan hadn’t been allowed to work for a year and a half by his Master’s command, the job came third.  
  
It had been years since Morgan had been allowed to hold something as delicate as a camera in his hands – at least, one that hadn’t been used as a way to film him when he was being brutally fucked. But it fit well in his grip. Years of passionate discovery and training came back to him. And editing? That came easier. Editing was sitting and letting the work flow through him, so that he could stay silent and create something beautiful.  
  
The first kiss had been Morgan’s idea, less than a month after he’d been working for Rhett and Link. He’d been showing Link an edit – watching Link as Link watched the edit, rather – when he’d leaned up and kissed his jaw.  
  
“Hey.” Link had put a hand on his face and gently pushed him away, so soft – like a child – that Morgan had chuckled even with the adrenaline racing through him at the chance he’d taken. “Hold up there, I’m working.”  
  
“What about when you’re _not_ working?” Morgan had asked. “What about...over lunch?”  
  
“You need to acclimate, buddy.” Link hadn’t looked at him – had kept watching the edit, processing it behind those brilliant eyes that Morgan still dreamed about most nights. “You’ve been through hell. You’re in a new place. You’re still figuring out how to do your job. It’d be real shitty of me if I pulled you right back into a scene just ‘cuz I wanted to.”  
  
Morgan had seized on a single sentence. “But...but you _do_ want to?”  
  
Link had looked away from the screen finally, quirking a brow, his lips pursed in thought. “...Morgan.” And he swept that crystalline gaze over his face, hair to chin, his dark pupils slowly swelling in interest. “Where’ve you been since that first party, man?”  
  
In that moment, Morgan would’ve bent over his desk for him, no hesitation. But he didn’t. He let Link take his fill, and then, when Link started to leave, he found the courage to speak again. “When?”  
  
“Give it time.” Link had lingered at the door and smiled at him. “Get to know the others, yeah? Make some friends. Take it slow. You’ve gotta relearn what it means to be you, not just a sub.”  
  
It hadn’t been easy. People like Chase and Stevie – real foundations of the crew at this point, both as subs and as workers – took him under their wings even as he refused to take his eyes off Link. It took a whole other month for him to look toward them instead, taking their requests to hang out, to get lunch together, to learn about them.  
  
Terrifying, really. As far as Morgan knew, there was every possibility in the world that as soon as they found out who he was – bland, milquetoast, a shell of a man lacking any form of personality or interests – that they’d leave him behind. Turns out that they didn’t. Turns out that they dragged him deeper into the crew – parties, online game playing, and being on screen in videos – until he began to realize that...it was true. He _was_ Morgan. Not a faceless, crumbling person that needed someone else to make him whole.  
  
He was Morgan. He liked filming. He liked editing. He liked playing in Photoshop to see what silly gags he could come up with to make Mike and Alex laugh. He liked animals. He liked looking at train sets. He liked helping and being kind and doing what he could to keep the office running like a well-oiled machine.  
  
The nights where he worked late were the hardest. Rhett and Link insisted on always being the last ones to leave the office, so if Morgan and one or two others were finishing up late work because of a surprise deadline, he had more time to be near Link. Link would come into his office to check on his progress, and then, once he was satisfied, sit in one of the empty chairs and pull out his phone and answer emails. A constant, steadying presence had never been more distracting, especially because Morgan didn’t...didn’t know when this mythical day was when he might get to play with him.  
  
Because he wanted to - _God,_ he wanted to, down to the very depths of him. Even when he had nightmares of floggers and melting candles and electrodes, he ended them with the arrival of a blue-eyed shadow that devoured those implements whole and wrapped him in a cool, refreshing darkness that lulled him into a dreamless sleep.  
  
It was during one of those late deadlines that Link came by, rested his hand on the back of Morgan’s chair, and leaned down to see his screen – only this time, he lingered, his warm breath tickling the hair over the back of Morgan’s neck.  
  
“You still interested?” Link had asked, his tone husky.  
  
Goosebumps had broken across Morgan’s skin, just like they always seemed to around him. “...yes, sir.”  
  
“Okay.” A thick stack of papers had hit the desk in front of Morgan, making him jump, and a hand had slid into his hair to soothe him. “Take your time with that. I mean it.”  
  
A kink list. He’d heard of these, but never had seen them before. He hadn’t gotten one from his Master. “Yes, sir.”  
  
And that was how it had all began, finally. Morgan overzealously checking _yes_ on every single kink, then having to go back with some whiteout in embarrassment and clean it up a bit as he reminded himself that this...list wasn’t a test to pass. That Link would respect his boundaries, whatever they were. That he didn’t have to do things that still made his insides twist – electroplay, burning, having his wrists be bound.  
  
It had been so short a time with Link. He was still learning slowly – that his safewords were important, that colors weren’t just to decorate with, and that his body’s pleasure was just as necessary as Link’s – but it was...a good process. One that he struggled with like wrestling a lion sometimes, but that Link never scolded him for.  
  
He _likes_ being scolded by Link, really. Finally, there are rules that Morgan can logically understand, and there’s boundaries that keep him from making errors that would hurt himself – but he doesn’t have to guess at them. He can write them all down on a piece of paper if someone asks. He knows.  
  
And he’s a good boy. Every single day, he ends it being a good boy. And that’s more priceless than he knows how to articulate.  
  
The haze of memory drips away as Morgan becomes aware of _two_ hands carding through his hair. Though the tears have abetted, there’s still a thick knot of tension in his chest that’s keeping him from taking a deep breath, and he makes a soft, acknowledging sound as he nuzzles against Link’s thigh.  
  
“Can you talk to me, baby?”  
  
Morgan considers. He opens his mouth, then feels how dry it is and shudders.  
  
“It’s okay if you can’t.” Link thumbs over his cheek, collecting a forgotten tear, and warmth explodes in Morgan’s gut. “Use your phone, okay?”  
  
Morgan sinks his fingers into Link’s legs as panic shoots through him like a brushfire, and he exhales sharply as he shakes his head.  
  
“My phone?”  
  
 _His phone._ Link’s phone is safe. Morgan tentatively reaches a hand up, then takes the phone when it’s pressed into his palm. He types. _“He texted me.”_  
  
Link takes one look at the text, then holds his hand out again. “Give it.”  
  
Morgan hands his phone over. He buries his eyes in Link’s thigh and listens to how Link opens his phone, then clicks through it.  
  
“It was a new number. Not your fault, okay?” Link begins petting him again, long strokes that start to chase the little flames from his body bit by bit. “I’m gonna block it for you.”  
  
 _Thank you._ He can’t say it – can’t speak a damn word, not yet – but he nods and sighs.  
  
Link works quickly and efficiently, then puts both hands back in Morgan’s hair, one rubbing the back of his neck and the other scratching his scalp. “You want me to keep it for the rest of the day? Just to be sure?”  
  
Morgan nods again, no hesitation. He knows he can have it back if he asks. Link doesn’t hoard Morgan’s belongings like...like some people might.  
  
“All right, baby, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you, remember? And I’m proud of you.”  
  
Morgan squeezes his eyes shut as the sting of tears returns.  
  
“You didn’t shut down. You didn’t hide. You came right to me, just like I told you you could. And that’s _good,_ baby, you did _so_ good.”  
  
Morgan lets out the sob before he realizes it’s even there, then covers his mouth to hold them in.  
  
The words come back, rocking like a crib. “He’s never gonna get you ever again. Never even gonna see you. ‘Cuz you’re safe now. You’ve got power over him. And you’ve got so many people that’ll kick his ass if he ever shows his face in this town again, don’t you forget that. ‘Cuz we love you, all right? You’re ours. You’re not alone.”  
  
 _I’m so fucking sick of crying._ His Master – _former_ Master – doesn’t deserve these tears. He hasn’t earned them by endearing himself to Morgan in any way. No, Morgan would rather do something productive with this fit of energy – and so he reaches for Link’s belt.  
  
“Hey.” Link stills his hands. “Look at me, Morgan.”  
  
Morgan looks. He blinks away the tears.  
  
“You don’t owe me anything, remember?” Link holds his gaze firmly.  
  
 _I owe you everything._ But he understands the sentiment – that his good standing with Link isn’t diminished if Morgan doesn’t do anything but curl up and go to sleep on the couch right now. He nods.  
  
Link quirks a brow. “You still wanna use your mouth?”  
  
Morgan exhales shakily, his eyelashes fluttering. He nods.  
  
“Okay.” Link smiles. “Let’s get you comfy. I’ve got an hour and a half before I need to go do something.” He slides his chair back, then leans back, craning to reach the pillow tucked between his desk and filing cabinet. “Here we go...” He hands it to Morgan, then pushes his wheeled chair to the minifridge as Morgan sets the pillow up under Link’s desk and then crawls so he can kneel on it. By the time Link comes back with an opened bottle of juice in his hands, Morgan’s ready.  
  
Morgan drinks the juice greedily – it’s like the tears bled every hydrated part of him away – then hands it back to Link, half-full. “Good boy,” Link murmurs, stroking his cheek, and Morgan shivers all over and smiles up at him. “There’s my baby. Look at that pretty smile.”  
  
His cheeks immediately heat up under Link’s hands, and he makes a low sound – an attempt at speaking, at dissuading the compliment – before he gives up and tugs Link toward him with the arms of his chair.  
  
Link laughs, but there’s a thickness to it that makes Morgan warm all over – he starts to fill out his jeans, and he regrets wearing the tighter ones. “You’re ready for me, aincha?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Morgan finally manages to say.  
  
“Mm, love your voice, baby...”  
  
Morgan cranes his neck to buss a kiss over Link’s wrist, then tugs his Dom’s pants and briefs down around his ankles. He wraps a hand around Link’s half-hard cock, giving it a few tugs, and then eases it into his mouth.  
  
 _Fuck._ Morgan’s eyes immediately slide shut at the weight of Link’s cock on his tongue, and he moans around it. He’s in no hurry, and he knows Link isn’t either. He’s satisfied with sitting here, lathing his tongue over the veiny shaft, and occasionally swallowing the drops of precum down with the saliva gathering in his mouth.  
  
“That’s it, that’s it...” Link lets out a moan as he pushes a little deeper inside of Morgan’s mouth, then shifts his hips to drag his cock over every inch of his tongue. “Yeah, baby, you just stay right there, okay? You just keep my cock warm. That’s perfect.”  
  
 _Perfect._ Morgan cups both of Link’s calves again, thumbing over the soft hair he feels.  
  
As Link goes back to typing, only occasionally bucking a little deeper into Morgan’s mouth, Morgan stays settled. His mind goes quiet. He breathes evenly, feeling almost like he could fall asleep.  
  
He’s safe. And no one is going to take that away.


	7. Stevie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stevie starts to get the idea of domming in her mind, and Link subtly reminds her who's in charge. But perhaps a compromise can be made, namely surrounding Jen...
> 
> (A.N.: This chapter features Link taking Stevie through phone sex by leading her through a fantasy about another woman. I know some readers might be concerned about Stevie's sexuality being erased in this very sex-driven story, and I promise you that I took every single precaution to stress and celebrate her orientation while also giving her a place in her D/s dynamic with Link <3 A D/s dynamic is a very intense thing that can involve a wide range of punishments and experiences regardless of someone's orientation, and a few of those are also mentioned in this chapter. If it's something that would make you uncomfortable to read or give a chance, then I recommend you skip this chapter, and I hope you have a great day!)
> 
> (TW for phone sex and discussions of punishment)

For Stevie, being able to stretch her wings a little more is...kind of weird.  
  
She’s an executive producer on just about everything now. She coordinates shoots. She tells people where to go, what to do, and how to do it. She has power. And, what’s more, she _likes_ the power.  
  
She isn’t sure what everyone else thinks about it yet. She knows there’s a few people who would probably love to get her alone for ten minutes so they can tell her exactly what she’s doing that annoys them, but overall, everyone seems pretty chill about things. They don’t question her. They take her orders just as well as they would take them from either Rhett or Link.  
  
Which is...definitely interesting. And a curious thought experiment for Stevie to run through when things get quiet.  
  
Being a submissive was never something that she planned – she didn’t wake up every day as a kid and a teenager thinking _gee, I really wish someone would tell me literally everything that I get to do today!_ She rebelled against that nonsense just as well as all of the other lesbians she knew – and she liked it. But she was also an overachiever, and she’d spent her many years working with Rhett and Link living up to that reputation.  
  
How many nights before an event had her two bosses gone to sleep and dreamed peacefully for a full ten hours while Stevie stayed up ripping her hair out and running disaster scenarios and making sure she had backup plans for the backup plans? They teased her about it every now and then on their podcast or the show itself, but if no one else was going to take care of these things, then who would?  
  
That’s where it started: Stevie needed a vacation, she wasn’t interested in taking one, and Link had given her a very distinct look – one she’d only ever seen him give to Rhett – before _ordering_ her in that low, breathy, drawling tone to take her accumulating time off right the fuck then.  
  
She had. She’d had a wonderful time relaxing. And she’d had a confusing time trying to figure out why it felt so _good_ for Link to tell her exactly what she needed to do.  
  
Ultimately, Stevie is a car going down a hill with no brakes – but a nicely designed one. Since no one sees her stress and panic on the outside of her perfectly made-up face, she alone knows how close she is to breaking down if she can’t keep everything exactly in order.  
  
Everyone but Link, that is. And bless him, really, for the care he takes with her. He’s the only one she trusts to make sure that, when she can’t take care of herself, he reminds her how to do it – and that he’ll do it _for_ her anytime she needs it.  
  
Still, her personality isn’t perfectly crafted toward being submissive, and she knows it down to the core of her. She’s a switch, she guesses – _that’s what they’re called, right? The people who shift between being a sub and a Domme both? Or is there a new term for it?_ Stevie the Switch. It fits. It sounds more and more perfect every time she thinks it. And the curiosity’s definitely there – about getting to play with someone, getting to dom them just like Link does, et cetera.  
  
On days like today, when she tells Alex in no uncertain terms where he’s going to set something up – and in a clipped tone at that – she thinks Link is curious about it too. She glances over as Alex darts away without questioning her, and there’s Link standing in the corner, paused with his mouth open mid-sentence to Rhett, his brow furrowed and a finger tracing the curve of his bottom lip. He sees. He knows.  
  
 _Is he curious too? Or is he threatened by it?_  
  
Stevie goes through the rest of the day expecting a punishment at any moment. She’s had them before, when she’s stepped out of line – she distinctly remembers the episode with the mixed fruit bowl, where she willingly defied Link’s orders to make sure that every other panicked sub got out of the room and huddled somewhere safe where they could take deep breaths and decompress together, where Stevie ended up receiving ten paddles in Link’s office, ones that were so hard she couldn’t sit down for a week. But this feels different. Like maybe Link knew what he was doing when he and Rhett put Stevie in charge of so many new aspects of the company. Like maybe he’d _planned_ this.  
  
She isn’t sure. And it’s not something she’s going to ask questions about.  
  
 _Not yet, anyway._  
  
When Stevie reaches the end of the day unscathed, she collects her bag and her keys and starts down the hallway, calling goodbyes to everyone that she passes that’re lagging a little behind her. She turns a corner, and then there’s a hand on her arm – one that she memorized years ago – and she freezes.  
  
“Any plans tonight?” Link asks, barely a whisper near her ear.  
  
She considers, her heart pounding – there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s about to end up bent over his desk with a paddle in his hand again. “No, sir.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
When she turns her head, she sees him smiling, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Can I...help you with anything, sir?”  
  
Link narrows his eyes, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ve been thinking.”  
  
 _Fuck._ “Yes, sir?”  
  
“Tonight...I want you to go home. I want you to make yourself your favorite meal that you have the ingredients for already in your apartment. I want you to take a thirty-minute-long bubble bath with three scented candles lit around the room. And then, at nine o’clock on the dot, I want you to masturbate.”  
  
This is nothing new. Link lays out evening plans for her at least once a month, especially when she’s starting to get frayed over deadlines or unexpected emails – it keeps her focused on self care, on staying present in her body, on being intimate with herself. But the fact that he’d bring it up now – when she’s honestly as calm as a purring cat – is definitely out of the ordinary. She frowns. “Okay.”  
  
“Good.” He smiles, then rubs her back, sending a little shiver down her spine that makes her wiggle in closer – unexpected physical contact always makes her feel like a jealous kitten looking for a warm spot. Link responds, drawing her in with an arm around her shoulder, and Stevie can’t help but hug him, breathing in the scent of his fabric softener on his shirt. He kisses the top of her head – warm and companionable – and then murmurs against her hair. “Keep your phone close by. I want you to text me as soon as you come. Understand?”  
  
She doesn’t even blush. Link’s seen every part of her. Telling him that she got her rocks off is about as titillating as telling him that she just took a massive shit after that enema he ordered her to get. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“And then I want you to go right to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”  
  
She sighs. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
“Do you want me to think about anything specific when I’m getting off?” She peeks up at him.  
  
Link considers this, then shakes his head. “Nah, just whatever’s on your mind. Use your hand or whatever toy you want. Just lemme know when you’re done.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
He smiles. One more quick kiss on her part, and then he steps back. “Drive safe, okay?”  
  
She returns the smile, giving a two-fingered salute as she backs down the hall. “Honestly, when have I ever not been safe?”  
  
The expression on his face contains multitudes right as she backs out the door to the parking lot.  
  
As Stevie pulls into the parking lot that is the freeway, trying to make her way back home, she works through the command. It’s not much of a mystery, she begins to realize. If she’s taking obvious steps toward throwing her weight around with the rest of the crew, then Link is going to subtly remind her what her place is in line with the rest of them – that she might have a position of power over the crew, but that she entered into a voluntary partnership with Link that involves him having all of the power over her consensually.  
  
 _Does he think I want out?_ Stevie feels herself grinding her teeth, and she promptly makes herself stop, reaching into her bag to pull out a piece of gum to chew instead – Link’s orders, and something he’ll be pleased by.  
  
There’s not a single part of her that wants out. It’s a strange relationship to be in, and she can feel her fellow feminist friends side-eying her from a distance – _you, a lesbian? You’re giving a cis man power over you? You’re in a relationship where sometimes you pull your pants down so he can spank you? You let him see you naked when he punishes you with nipple clamps or when you ask him to humiliate you by watching you get off with a dildo?_  
  
She knows what it sounds like. She knows that no matter what she says, there’s a handful of people who would insist that she was no longer a lesbian if she gets off in a man’s presence – if she _enjoys_ getting off in his presence, even. She knows that she can yell about not being sexually attracted to Link until she’s blue in the face, but that if in the heat of a scene she asks him to fill her up with his biggest dildo until she cries for the sheer release of it, then people will _say_ things.  
  
 _You’re erasing your own identity. You’re fooling yourself. You’ve been straight this whole time, haven’t you? You’ve just been waiting for a man with a dick to put inside you, and we all knew it._  
  
She’s perfectly aware. She makes her peace with it every time that the thoughts come. She keeps a mental rolodex of the friends that she’ll no doubt have to say goodbye to if her experiences with Link ever come to light. And she remains as secure in her sapphic nature as she always has.  
  
She’s holding her breath, she realizes. She consciously lets it out, then takes in a deep, cleansing one until her chest is puffed out.  
  
So Link is reminding her of her place. He’s giving her subtle commands to make sure she’s still happy to follow him. And she is. And she will.  
  
Besides, a bubble bath? Fuck yeah. An excellent night incoming.  
  
Once she gets home, she slides her shoes off by the door and sets her bag down and investigates the kitchen. She pulls out a variety of fresh vegetables as well as her giant bag of rice under the counter. Vegetable fried rice it is.  
  
Before she can start prepping, she puts her hair back in a messy bun, then texts Link. _”Can I listen to music while I make dinner?”_  
  
The response is immediate. _”As long as it’s good music. None of that punk shit.”_  
  
She laughs, affectionate and bright, and pulls up Spotify on her phone. She picks an ambient classical playlist, something she can let fill her up like cotton candy as she chops the vegetables.  
  
It’s easy to lose herself in the lull of this – the swell of the violins in her chest, the steady impact of her knife on the cutting board, the bright colors of the vegetables that fill separate bowls around her board just so she can glance up and admire the rainbow that they make. She checks the rice, admiring how fluffy it’s becoming, before she spills the vegetables into the oil in the pan. The way they sizzle and release their aroma wraps a blanket around her.  
  
It’s imprecise and imperfect, pouring garlic and sesame oil and ginger into the pan, but there’s a release in that just as well. For once, she doesn’t have to measure everything out exactly. She knows that it’ll taste perfect either way – that she won’t fuck up here, in her own home.  
  
When she stirs the rice into the vegetables, the splash of soy sauce she adds on top smells like a closing overture, and it takes little time at all before she’s gathering it all into a bowl. The pan gets to soak, and Stevie gets to sit on the couch under an afghan and eat, still under the blissful spell of the music dancing around the room.  
  
There’s no overthinking. Not even a hint of work. Just Stevie and a warm bowl against her thighs and the knowledge that a bath is right around the corner.  
  
She strips down before she even starts the water running, letting her hands graze over her trim figure. _I inhabit this,_ she thinks vaguely, glancing down to watch how her fingers play over her pale skin, brushing over a mole here or a scar there. It’s strange, being so suddenly aware of who she is – of the blood rushing under her skin and the heart beating in her chest – but it...it feels _good._ It’s wonderful, somehow, to be reminded that she has a body to care for, and that filling it with stress and agony every single day is only shortening the time she gets to spend with it.  
  
She picks sweet pea bubble bath to fill the tub with, and three matching candles. She lights them, then turns off the light, then snaps a picture of the tub already nearly overflowing and the flickering flames, and she sends it to Link.  
  
She slips into the water, the music playing on, and glances over to see _”That’s my girl,”_ and she smiles just before she sets the half hour timer and closes her eyes.  
  
Stevie floats. Not for the first time, her thoughts turn to other women – she’s as gay as gay can be, and the amount of simply stunning women that she crosses paths with every single day always takes her breath away. Also not for the first time, she wonders what will happen if she meets a woman that she truly wants to spend time with – dates, maybe living together, maybe marrying one day. It’s been a while since she had that. And how would her experiences with Link affect it? Would this mythical wife figure understand Stevie being a man’s submissive? Would she ask for Stevie to stop? And would Stevie feel comfortable doing that?  
  
She can’t imagine a life without occasionally having someone else take her through scenes – and given how strongly she trusts and values her relationship with Link, even conceptualizing the idea of ending things with him while still continuing to work in the office feels impossible. Not because of anything he would do, but...but because she knows what she’d be missing. And if she didn’t have someone else willing to fill that void…  
  
 _Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Domme._ She chews on her bottom lip. _Maybe I’m not as much of a switch as I think I could be. Do people like that even exist? People who have a Dom and then turn around and have their own sub? Like, obviously, surely somebody out there has to exist, but…_  
  
Before her thoughts can go too maudlin, the timer goes off, and she sits up with a heavy sigh. Those are thoughts for another time. Another day. Right now she has to drain the tub, rinse off, and get dry.  
  
By the time she’s extinguished all the candles, brushed her teeth, and washed her face, it’s nearly time for her final set of commands. As she walks into her bedroom and starts to consider the few toys she has near it, she lets her mind wander – pull up a favorite queer-friendly porn, maybe? Conjure up some faceless woman to run her hands all over Stevie’s body? She’s never been very good at coming up with images to get off to. If she doesn’t have a partner in her bed, she’d rather wait until she’s struck with horniness and then get off in seconds, relying on her strongest vibrator to do all the work for her.  
  
Stevie lays in bed, spreading her naked limbs out, then lets her eyes fall shut as she traces her fingers over her belly, through her soft pubic hair, along the dip of her waist, then over a nipple. Her skin stirs at the contact, just as she knew it would, but nothing comes to mind.  
  
Frustrating is definitely the word for it. She digs her teeth into her lip until it almost bleeds.  
  
The phone pulses beside her on the bed, and she jumps, looking down at the incoming phone call. She furrows her brow and answers. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey there!”  
  
Link’s voice makes her immediately cycle through the commands she’d received, if she’d perhaps forgotten an important one. “Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah! Everything’s great. Just, ah, a little change of plans.”  
  
Relief settles in her chest. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“You getting ready to get off?”  
  
“Yes, sir?”  
  
“Well, I want you to think about someone specific.”  
  
A spark sets off somewhere in her body at the sudden world of possibilities open to her. _Thank God I don’t have to think too hard._ “Oh yeah?” She settles back into the pillow, crossing her legs at the ankle as casually as if she was talking to her best friend in high school. “Who’s that?”  
  
“Jen.”  
  
“Mmm...” Jen. _Fuck._ Jen, just like every other girl she works with, is one of those women that she never lets herself think about too hard. Dating around the office is bound to happen, but dating someone who isn’t a part of the culture most of them take part in would be almost impossible to manage. But maybe not. Link had murmured just a few days ago to Stevie that Jen had joined their, ah, little club of deviance after all. _So maybe...maybe…_ But the thoughts still feel a little too forbidden. She’s not even sure Jen would be comfortable knowing that a girl was getting off to thoughts of her. “...and how should I be thinking about Jen, huh?”  
  
Silence. “...can...I get some clarification on that?”  
  
She blinks. “On what?”  
  
“Like, are you...” Link chuckles nervously, then drops his voice almost to a whisper. “Are you...asking for, like, guidance, or are, are you asking for phone sex, Stevie?”  
  
The mere idea makes her brighten up. “And what if I _am_ asking for phone sex?”  
  
“Uh.” The background noise around Link – a TV, maybe, that he and Rhett were watching together – fades as he clears his throat. “I-I just needed to ask because, uh, because you’re...you’re sapphic.”  
  
“Yep!” She laughs. “I’m a big lesbian, Link, congratulations! You figured it out after all these years!”  
  
“Stevie.”  
  
“It’s your _voice,_ sir.” She gets comfortable again, letting out a deep sigh. “Your voice and your ideas. I’ve always liked those. You’d be telling me about Jen, who just so happens to be a woman. It’s not like you’re throwing your all-encompassing manliness at me.” Even after the joke, she feels like she can still sense his hesitation through the long moment of silence, so she presses a mental button. “And I think...that I’d like you telling me what to think about. So that I don’t have to think so hard.”  
  
“Huh.” A door shuts quietly in the background of Link’s call, and she hears his mattress creak as he sits on it. “You...you’re sure?”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“I-I just don’t wanna-”  
  
“Link. You’re my Dom. And you’ve been...you’ve been busy lately. And...maybe I miss you telling me what to do.” She licks her lips. “Please, sir? Please tell me how you want me to think about Jen?”  
  
He’s a sucker for begging and they both know it. He huffs out a little laugh. “What if I’m busy right now, huh? What if I had something I was doing?”  
  
She makes a whiny, pouty sound, and he laughs louder. “Is...is she ready? To play with somebody else?”  
  
Link clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, here’s the thing, she’s...she’s a virgin, okay?”  
  
A fire takes off right in her gut, and Stevie presses her thighs together. “Shit, really?”  
  
“Yeah.” Link’s voice goes low and warm. “I got her off the other day. Fingerfucked her in my chair while she rubbed herself off. But that’s it.”  
  
“Fuck.” She doesn’t mean to breathe the word as she closes her eyes, but when she rubs her thighs together she can feel the beginnings of heat and wetness in her pussy.  
  
“You like that? Thinking about Jen all flushed and desperate? Thinking about watching her rub her clit while you watch?”  
  
“Link,” she chuckles, throwing a forearm over her eyes. “Wait, wait, is...is Jen okay with me thinking about this?”  
  
Link hums in thought. “I’ve mentioned you and her playing together. She wants me for the first, like, penetration, but I thought you might like going down on her the first time.”  
  
Stevie sucks in a shaky gasp, feeling that growing inferno lick over her skin. “Mm, fuck, I bet she tastes amazing.”  
  
“She does,” Link murmurs, just as breathily. “Sucked her slick into my mouth after I fingerfucked her. She’s something special.”  
  
There’s one last long moment of indecision, and then Stevie reaches for her vibrator. “Can I use a toy?”  
  
“Fuck, yeah, go for it.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” she murmurs, then gasps as she presses the little egg toy between her labia. “Fuck!”  
  
“You know she’s gonna be all embarrassed the second you so much as look at her,” Link coos. “Blushing and stammering. Not able to look at you. You know why?”  
  
Stevie bites her bottom lip. “Why?”  
  
“’Cuz she wants you bad.”  
  
She moans as she bucks her hips downward, crushing against her palm.  
  
“Says she thinks you’re real sweet, real safe...you mean a lot to her, y’know? She’s gonna trust you with anything you do to her. You could keep her at the edge for a goddamn hour and she wouldn’t tell you to stop.”  
  
“Would...” Stevie licks her lips, already able to taste sweat on her skin. “Would you let me dom her?”  
  
Link’s quiet. “Would you like that?”  
  
She whines.  
  
“Would you like to make her put her hands under her head, maybe, so she can’t touch you ‘til you tell her she can? She’d ride your face so pretty if you let her, just, _fuck,_ Stevie, all you’d gotta do is push her flat on the mattress and crawl between her thighs, and you know she’d be dripping all over your mouth in a second.”  
  
The images flood her mind, overwhelming her, one right after the other – Jen’s tight abs flexing as she tries to keep herself from squirming away from the new sensation of Stevie’s tongue, a blush easing down her cheeks to her neck to her chest, her painted toenails curling right next to Stevie’s shoulders. “Have you seen her naked?” She’s desperate to fill out the images just a little more.  
  
“Not yet.” Link makes a low grunt.  
  
Stevie can’t help but chuckle. “A-are you, are you getting off to this?”  
  
“No!” His voice cracks. “No, Stevie, this is for you, c’mon, don’t.”  
  
“Okay,” she says, still laughing, then angles the vibrator so it presses right on her clit. “Would you wanna fuck her while I rode her face one day?”  
  
Link swears sharply, right under his breath, and Stevie laughs in delight again as she slowly rolls her hips, grinding against the vibrator. “Stevie, c’mon, girl. Don’t wanna...don’t wanna make you feel like...”  
  
“We work well together,” Stevie teases through a gasp. “Maybe I could keep you on track.”  
  
Link’s voice goes smooth and dangerous. “You think I can’t handle my subs?”  
  
“I think I wanna see how you work,” she murmurs right back in her closest replication of that tone. “Just in case I want a few subs of my own one day.”  
  
Silence. “And you want Jen to be your first experience with that?”  
  
She’s always been fascinated on an intellectual level by watching Link work – how he instinctively knows how to handle a sub, how he can read the minds of ones like Rhett and Chase without question, how he trusts himself and his strength and his capabilities past where someone else might’ve found a breaking point. “If you’re there? Yeah.”  
  
“Then yeah.”  
  
“Really?” Her eyes fly open.  
  
“Gimme time. And stop trying to get out of this right here.”  
  
“I-I’m not!” She immediately squeezes her eyes shut and rocks against the vibrator and her palm again. “I’ve got my vibrator going right now!”  
  
“But are you thinking about Jen?”  
  
“…I am now.”  
  
Link makes another low humming sound – she’ll be getting some mild little punishment for that, and she knows it, even if it doesn’t happen until tomorrow. “Thinking about her quiet little moans she’ll make when you let her ride your face?”  
  
All of her breath leaves her in a rush. She shivers, squirming against sheets – she can practically taste the musk on her tongue.  
  
“She gets nervous ‘bout the sounds she makes. Real shy about how loud she can be. Don’t want the rest of the office to hear. But I bet you could make her scream, couldn’t you?”  
  
“Would she?” Stevie asks breathlessly. “God, I’d work her over for hours just, just to hear...”  
  
“So maybe she comes the first time. Would you wanna stop there?”  
  
“No, sir.” She’s been attracted to Jen for years. The mere _idea_ that once could be enough is preposterous, especially when it only takes a little work to conjure up what her face might look like when she’s coming by Stevie’s tongue – flushed and overcome and maybe even a little scared, scared of how overwhelmed someone else could make her feel just with their tongue.  
  
“Think the two of you work well together,” Link drawls. “I know she’s fit as hell, but I bet you could move her around wherever you wanted to.”  
  
Stevie can _feel_ the thickness of Jen’s muscular calf in her palm, the swell of her thigh against the other.  
  
“Maybe get one of her legs over your shoulder so you can rub against each other, huh?”  
  
“Fuck...” Suddenly she’s not grinding against her own hand, but against Jen’s pussy, their slickness mingling and making it so fucking easy to tease every little bit of sensation out of the both of their bodies. “Oh my God-”  
  
“She’d gasp and moan for you, Stevie, she’d be begging you not to stop when you really got going. She’d probably beg you to put on a harness and start fucking her just like that.”  
  
Twisted up like a pretzel, arching off the bed for her…  
  
“She could take anything you gave her – make it hard and fast so she’s squirming in the sheets, and she’d cover up her mouth, try to keep from screaming-”  
  
Her whole face flushed and her eyes locking desperately on Stevie’s…  
  
“-but you’d hit that sweet spot inside of her, wouldn’t you, so that she’d throw her hands down and shout your name as she came for you.”  
  
Stevie gasps sharply, feeling the rush of everything too hard and too fast. “I-I’m gonna...”  
  
“Come with her, baby, scream with her, c’mon-”  
  
“Fuck!” Stevie arches into her vibrator with a sharp whine, dropping the phone to bite into the back of her arm so her shout doesn’t wake her neighbors. As sore as her hips already are from her desperate grinding, she works them down against the toy until her vision is white behind her eyelids, until every cell in her body is tingling.  
  
It takes her a few seconds to come down once she turns the vibrator off and tosses it weakly to the foot of the bed, and when she does she twists around and paws for the phone. “Done,” she murmurs, voice almost slurring with the sudden weight of her tiredness.  
  
“I heard.” Link chuckles. “You have a good time?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” She curls her legs up to her chest with a smile, snuggling into a tight ball. “Thank you.”  
  
He laughs again. “You’re welcome. Get up and wash your toy. Don’t be lazy about it.”  
  
Stevie huffs. “But Link...”  
  
“There ain’t no Link here! This is your Dom speaking!”  
  
She breathes a laugh of her own. “Yes, sir...”  
  
“Good girl.” He pauses. “Everything feel okay? Did I...cross something I shouldn’t have?”  
  
“We’re fine, Link,” she murmurs as she sits up and pushes her hair out of her face. “That was...that was fun. I don’t know how much more of it I could do, but, but it was definitely fun.”  
  
“Good.” He exhales, probably a sigh of relief – he’s still a big softie whether he wants to admit it or not. “Listen, I’m serious about Jen. I want you to be the first person she plays with. I trust you.”  
  
The little praise twinkles over her skin like pixie dust, making her feel like she can do anything. “I’d love to. She’s...she’s nice.”  
  
“You like her?”  
  
“She’s a friend,” she stresses, and Link chuckles again.  
  
“All right, all right. You go wash your toy and get some sleep and we’ll see what happens later in the week. Cool?”  
  
“Cool. G’night, Link, thank you again.”  
  
“Good night, Stevie. Sweet dreams.”  
  
  
~~  
  
  
The next day when Stevie gets to the office, Jen’s lingering next to her desk, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Stevie hesitates. “Hey.”  
  
Jen startles back a step, then fixes her with her usual, direct, beautiful stare. “Hey!” She manages a little smile. “Hey, um. How are you?”  
  
“I’m good.” Stevie beams back at her and sits in her chair, shifting the brim of her hat so she can still see Jen’s face. “How are you?”  
  
Jen opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Link says...we might be...working together soon.”  
  
 _Geez, Link, you can wait a single minute longer than you have to, can you?_ She quirks a brow. “How do you feel about that?”  
  
“I-I, um. Mostly I wanted to see how _you_ felt about it.” She looks around. “He said that...he told you about me. My experience.”  
  
“Mm-hmm?”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Jen laughs nervously. “I know it won’t be any fun for you, like, working with somebody who’s never...done things? Before?”  
  
The mere idea that Stevie might be the first person to watch Jen discover what oral sex feels like already has her practically dripping through her panties. “I’d like it, actually.”  
  
Jen turns beet red as she locks eyes with her again. “Really?”  
  
Stevie nods, smiling.  
  
“Oh.” She starts to fidget – rubbing her hands together and pushing her hair behind her ears. “Well, I’d...like it too? I think?”  
  
“Okay.” Stevie nods again, eyes sparkling.  
  
“I-I just wanted to...” As the silence keeps stretching out, Jen points behind her. “I’m gonna go, actually.”  
  
 _You’re so cute._ Stevie’s smile widens so much that she can feel the edges of her eyes crinkling. “Just tell me when, okay?”  
  
“Yep!” Jen waves behind her back as she hurries down the hall, leaving a trail of embarrassment in her wake.  
  
Stevie rests her chin in her hand, watching Jen all the way until she disappears around the corner. She stares a little longer, thinking of every little shy detail about her, then blinks when Link suddenly pops his head around the corner.  
  
Link winks at her, and then he disappears again, and Stevie laughs and shakes her head as she looks down at her tasks for the day. _Weirdo._


End file.
